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THE FOURTH DOWN 
















































THE WELLWORTH COLLEGE SERIES 


THE 

FOURTH DOWN 


BY 

LESLIE W. QUIRK 

Author of “ Freshman Dorn, Pitcher,” 
“ Baby Elton, Quarter-back,” etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

HENRY S. WATSON 


BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1912 



Copyright , iqil , 1912, 

By Little, Brown, and Company. 

All rights reserved 


Published, September, 1912 


THE COLONIAL PRESS 
C. H. SIMONDS & CO., BOSTON, U. 8. A. 


P 4 

^ Cl. A 3271 47 







TO 

gratia Htnalom 

CLASSMATE AT “ WtLL WORTH,” TO WHOM I AM 


INDEBTED FOR MANY SUGGESTIONS AND 
FOR THE REFRESHING OF MANY 
COLLEGE MEMORIES 




\ 



























CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Call for Freshmen ... i 

II. The Cardinal Cap .... 13 

III. “A Find for the Football Team! ” 24 

IV. Sophomore Visitors .... 36 

V. In the Swimming - Tank ... 48 

VI. The Class Election .... 63 

VII. The Trick Play 76 

VIII. The First Game 88 

IX. The Bonfire Celebration . . 104 

X. The Coach’s Decree . . . .119 

XI. The Bigger Thing .... 132 

XII. Moving Moogers 146 

XIII. The New Candidate .... 161 

XIV. The Elastic Elevens .... 172 

XV. A Fat Boy at Full-Back . . 183 

XVI. The Winning of Wee Willie Winkle 197 

XVII. The Quitter 212 

XVIII. The Courage of Eidenfessel . . 224 

XIX. Back into the Game .... 237 

XX. The Suspicions of Terwilliger . 249 

XXI. The Cross - Country Race . . 261 

XXII. The Mud - Lark of the Team . . 270 

XXIII. Crossing the Goal - Line . . . 282 

XXIV. While Everybody Cheered . . 295 

XXV. The Post - Season Game . . . 305 









































































LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Then Wellworth loosed its full fury and 
power of attack Frontispiece 1 / 

He wriggled to turn over, but the hands 

could not be shaken off ... page 37 ^ 

The ball, wrenched loose from his opponent, 

bounded into his very arms . . . “ 99 , 

“ Who — who won? ” he asked, forcing out 

the words through parched lips . . “ 266 v 










The Fourth Down 

CHAPTER I 

THE CALL FOR FRESHMEN 

His name was Penfield Wayne, and he was a 
newly registered freshman at Wellworth Univer- 
sity. Just now he sat at the window of his room, 
dividing his time between reading from the blue, 
paper-covered book in his hand, and pausing to 
stare out upon the lower campus. It was not a 
large room, and its decorations did not suggest 
that a student occupied it, if one excepted a flaring 
purple banner with the white letters, F. H. S. 
Between the bureau and the closet door stood a 
trunk labeled P. W. From beneath the bed 
peeped a dull yellow suit-case, with the same ini- 
tials printed on one end. 

The boy himself was about eighteen years old, 
with a frank, clean-cut, likable face, and a body 
that at first glimpse made him appear younger 


2 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


than he was. He was undeniably small, but trimly 
built, and every line of his lithe and active body 
proclaimed athletic training. If further proof 
were needed, it was supplied by the book he held, 
which bore the title, “ Official Football Guide,” 
and by the eagerness with which his eyes scanned 
the lower campus, stretching from a point almost 
beneath his window to the white goal-posts more 
than one hundred yards away. It was on this 
field, he had learned, that the first practice was 
held. 

Because he was a very new freshman, and had 
come to this strange city only the day before, he 
watched enviously as other students, evidently 
upper-classmen, met on the campus, and shook 
hands with undisguised gladness, or slapped each 
other boisterously upon the shoulders. If this 
were Falder High School now, he would have been 
the most eager of them all to welcome old friends. 
But he had graduated from Falder, and this was 
Wellworth, where he knew absolutely nobody at 
all. Worse still, he was only a freshman; perhaps 
— and he smiled knowingly — he had done well 
to remain in his room until the college world began 
to adjust itself. 

As if in answer to the unformed suspicion of 


THE CALL FOR FRESHMEN 3 
the treatment he might expect from the sopho- 
mores, a shout from downstairs brought him 
quickly to his feet. 

“ Freshmen! Freshmen! We want freshmen! ” 

It was a chant that echoed through the halls of 
Mrs. Pillsbury’s boarding-house, and sang its way 
into every room from cellar to attic. 

Penfield Wayne did not wait to hear the words 
again. Quietly he pulled down the window-shade, 
darkening the room; then, as softly as possible, 
he twisted the key in the lock, and wheeled the 
bureau into a barricade before the door. 

“Freshmen! Freshmen! All freshmen out! ” 

He smiled a little as he took an inflated football 
from his trunk, allowing it to dangle from the 
lacing thong. They might catch him, very prob- 
ably they would; but he did not intend to be cap- 
tured without some kind of a scrimmage. 

“ Freshmen! Freshmen! We want every fresh- 
man in the house! ” 

Up the stairs tramped heavy boots. There must 
be fifty sophomores at least, thought Penfield. 
Straight and unhesitatingly to his door they 
stomped and stumbled. 

“Hi! You freshman in there! ” 

In the room, the boy grasped the football string 


4 


THE FOURTH DOWN 

a little more tightly, and swung the oval to and 
fro. But he did not speak. 

“ Why don’t you answer us? We know you’re 
in there; we saw you pull down the curtain.” 

44 I met him dis morning on the stairs,” said a 
deep voice with a slight German accent. “ He’s 
one of those little poys. His last name is Wayne; 
his first is Pen — Penni — ” 

“ If he is only as big as a cent,” chuckled an- 
other voice, 44 his name is probably Penny Wayne. 
Sure it isn’t Penny Weight? ” 

“ Perhaps,” burred the first speaker carelessly. 
44 Anyhow, I think right now he’s scared out of 
his life.” 

This last taunt was too much for Penfield. “ Oh, 
am I? ” he shouted. “ Well, if you want to find 
out how 4 scared ’ I am, come on in and get me. 
I may be pretty new here, but you can’t frighten 
me that way. Come on and break down the door, 
because I’ve a nice little surprise waiting for you.” 

Out in the hall, his words had a strange effect. 
Instead of the moment of quiet he expected, there 
came instead a wild outburst of laughter. 

44 Listen, fellows,” said one of the group pres- 
ently, 44 he thinks we are sophomores.” 

44 Yes,” challenged Penfield, bracing himself, 














Then Wellworth loosed its full fury and power of at- 
tack. Frontispiece. See page 316. 


THE CALL FOR FRESHMEN 5 

“ I know you’re sophomores, and I’m ready for 
you any time you want to break in.” 

“ Here! Here! ” called a new voice from the 
hall, “ your name is Wayne, isn’t it? You needn’t 
deny it, because Mrs. Pillsbury told us, and Petey 
here knows it is. We’re not sophomores; we’re 
freshmen, just as you are, and we’re rounding up 
everybody in the class to help out at the cap rush 
this afternoon.” 

The boy in the room hesitated. “ How do I 
know that?” 

“ You’ll never know it, Mister Penny Penfield, 
if that’s your name, unless you come out here and 
look us over. If you think we are going to break 
down Mrs. Pillsbury’s nice door just to get you to 
do your duty, you’re very much mistaken. Of 
course, if you are afraid to take part in the cap 
rush — ” 

“ Afraid! ” Wayne tossed the football into the 
open trunk, and prepared to wheel the bureau 
back into its place. 

“ That’s what I said,” continued the voice from 
the hall. “ Now, if you aren’t afraid, and if you 
haven’t heard of the class rush, and if you really 
think we are sophomores — Well, I’ll give you 
my word of honor that you’re misjudging us.” 


6 THE FOURTH DOWN 

In another second or two, the boy had slid the 
bureau from the door, and turned the key in the 
lock. As the door swung open, he saw that his 
besiegers were, not fifty, but three. Quite as much 
at ease as if their welcome had been more cordial, 
they stalked into the room and sat down on the 
window-seat and convenient chairs. There was 
a round-faced, rosy-cheeked youth of about nine- 
teen, who, Wayne decided, was the one who mis- 
pronounced his English when excited; in the big 
Morris-chair lounged a corpulent, good-natured 
giant; on the arm of the small rocker perched a 
thin, long-legged fellow whose blinking eyes and 
red-lined nose suggested that ordinarily he wore 
glasses. All three were clothed in ragged, out-at- 
elbows coats, frayed trousers and patched and 
faded sweaters. None of them had hats or caps. 

The caller on the rocking-chair arm stopped 
swinging his long legs. 

“ This is the idea, Penny Penfield,” he began, 
rolling the name about on his tongue. “ Yonder 
lad on the window-seat is Petey Eidenfessel, and 
the tame elephant in your comfy Morris-chair is 
Wallie Moogers, and Fm B. Terwilliger, com- 
monly known as ‘ Twig.’ We are all freshmen, 
even if I do look smarter than the others, and we’re 


THE CALL FOR FRESHMEN 7 
all going up to the cap rush on the upper campus. 
Is that plain? ” 

Wayne nodded. “ But what is this cap rush? 
You see, my people moved to this State from the 
East just this fall, and I don’t know anything 
about the college customs.” 

“ We can tell you about that later. The point 
is, are you willing to take part? ” 

Wayne stopped pacing the room with an indig- 
nant snort. “ Am I willing? If there’s some fun, 
of course I’m willing. Why, I — I’m a football 
player.” He had hardly said the words before he 
knew he had blundered; Terwilliger’s quick wink 
to the German was distressingly plain. 

“ That’s fine! ” said the spokesman of the group. 
“ How much do you weigh, Penny? Must tip the 
scales at nearly a hundred pounds, don’t you? 
You and Wallie Moogers here should make a fine 
team; he could do the pushing and you the dodg- 
ing.” He rose to his feet. “ But this doesn’t do 
us any good. The rush begins at two, and it’s 
nearly that now. If you are coming, you’d better 
slip on some old clothes.” 

“ All right,” agreed Wayne; “ I’ll just put on 
this old sweater and be with you in no time.” 

Two minutes later, the four of them turned from 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


8 

Murray Street into State, which was already 
crowding with little groups hurrying toward the 
upper campus. 

“That’s where the rush is held,” explained 
Moogers, falling in by Wayne’s side. “ Jadman, a 
junior from my home town, told me all about it 
yesterday. You see,” he pointed out, “ there’s 
Science Hall on the right and Pharmacy Hall on 
the left. Well, that flagstaff between the two 
buildings is the center of the rush.” 

“ Yes,” put in Eidenfessel, “ and if you want to 
see what sophomores look like already, look at 
them about the pole. Why, they’re as thick as 
flies around a molasses barrel.” 

“ They won’t be that way long,” promised Ter- 
williger; “ not after Penny Penfield gets after 
them. You know, he’s a football player.” 

With difficulty, Wayne controlled himself. He 
had fully determined to leave behind him all his 
old habits when he came to Wellworth. In par- 
ticular, moreover, he had resolved to avoid making 
himself the topic of every conversation. He real- 
ized more fully than he had before in his room that 
his remark about football was foolish and in the 
worst possible taste. He was a player, and he 
did intend to try hard to make the team; but that 


THE CALL FOR FRESHMEN 9 

was no excuse for talking about it. He turned 
away from Terwilliger. 

“ Sca-a-ared gre-e-en, freshmen!” came the 
taunting cry of the sophomores. 

Penfield Wayne straightened his head with a 
jerk, keenly alert to the fun at hand. There was 
no time now to think of himself and his ambi- 
tions; there was an enemy to meet and con- 
quer. 

Again the derisive cry arose: 

“ Sca-a-ared gre-e-en, freshmen ! ” 

But this time it was met with an answering 
volley. The four were now within fifty feet of the 
flagpole, having crossed the sidewalk that sepa- 
rated the upper campus from the street. As they 
scrambled up the terrace, Wayne could distin- 
guish the sophomores fantastically dressed in their 
oldest suits, and circling about the staff with out- 
bursts of laughter and defiance. Nearer at hand 
was a constantly growing group of freshmen, and 
around both bodies, in the form of an inverted U, 
stretched the line of spectators who had come to 
witness the rush. 

“Sophomore! Sophomore! 

You’re going to get your shirty tore!” 


10 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


Vociferous applause greeted this effort of Ter- 
williger’s, and the freshman class caught it up and 
boomed it forth with mighty glee. 

As the four gained the group of their classmates, 
Wayne found himself in a strange, jabbering, 
shouting assemblage. For the most part, the 
freshmen were decked in their oldest clothes, al- 
though here and there the boy caught a glimpse 
of some youth whose sense ran more to style than 
to the fitness of dressing for a class rush. Moogers, 
too, found time to note these exceptions, and to 
chuckle over them. 

“ Just look at that fellow with the checked 
suit,” he told Wayne in a low voice. “ Why, after 
this clash is over, he’ll spend a week picking the 
checks out of the grass.” 

“ But what is the object of the rush? ” asked 
Penfield. “ What are we trying to do? ” 

Moogers pointed to the top of the pole. “ Do 
you see that little business where the gilded ball 
generally is?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, that’s a cap, a cardinal cap. It belongs 
to the sophomores just now, and they are defying 
us to take it away from them. If we fail to cap- 
ture it, we are supposed to wear green skull caps 


THE CALL FOR FRESHMEN 11 

instead of the sort of head-gear we like best. If 
we do get and keep it, however, we wear what we 
please. The whole thing was devised as a substi- 
tute for brutal and pointless hazing, which was 
given up by common consent, with the understand- 
ing that thefreshman-sophomoreantagonism might 
be worked off in this harmless manner. The cap on 
the pole is leather, which makes it difficult to tear, 
and dyed cardinal, which is Wellworth’s color. 
At the beginning of each school year, it is turned 
over to the sophomores, who defend it from two 
to four on the last registration day. Understand 
now? ” 

“ Yes,” said Wayne, his eyes sparkling, “ but 
how can we hope to get it? ” 

“ Don’t ask me. Probably some of the quicker- 
witted fellows of our class will figure out a method. 
Putting it at the top of a flagpole is a new trick 
this year, I believe. But we’ll get it; don’t 
worry.” 

No member of the freshman class, indeed, ap- 
peared to be worrying in the least. The trouble 
seemed to lie in the vast abundance of plans. 
Each boy was shouting at the top of his voice, 
offering advice, exhortation and entreaty; and 
it was not until Petey Eidenfessel had been raised 


12 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


upon a pair of friendly shoulders that there was 
any semblance of orderly concentration. 

“ Fellows/’ he shouted, “ listen once. We must 
get together and make a charge already and — ” 
“ But what are we going to do if we do reach 
the pole?” interrupted Wayne, unable longer to 
withhold his impatience. 

“ Oh, that will be all right,” mocked Terwil- 
liger; “ you are a football player, you know, and 
can help us out. Come on! ” 

Just how the charge began, no one could have 
told. But in a moment, the entire class, outnum- 
bering the sophomores on defense, started on a 
clumsy trot toward the pole, like some great, slow- 
moving monster that threatened to sweep all be- 
fore it. Penfield Wayne dropped back a bit until 
the more leisurely Wallie Moogers was by his side, 
and prepared for the shock. 


CHAPTER II 


THE CARDINAL CAP 

Although the charge of the freshmen proved 
a stirring spectacle to those who watched from the 
outskirts of the warring classes, they could see 
from the first that it was destined to fail. For the 
attacking party, instead of bunching closely in 
such a way as to strike the other little army with 
the point of a human wedge, spread out in the 
form of a half-moon, which curled around the de- 
fenders as harmlessly as a wave laps its course 
about a rock. 

“ They haven’t the slightest idea what they are 
doing,” criticized “ Dad ” Lubbock, the football 
coach, from his vantage point higher up on the 
campus. “ Why, they missed whatever chance 
they might have had.” 

Homer Hood, an upper-classman correspondent 
for one of the Chicago dailies, jotted down a mem- 
orandum in his note-book, and nodded sagely. 
But Frank Lakers, who played full-back on the 


14 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


varsity football team, refused to accept the tem- 
porary repulse as final. 

“ You never can tell,” he said. “ Sometimes 
the freshman class wins after getting a mighty 
poor start. The one ahead of ours did.” 

The coach made no reply. He was busily en- 
gaged in searching among the struggling group 
for football candidates. 

In the middle of the surging, tugging mass, 
Penfield Wayne found himself enjoying the rush 
as much as if it had been a game on the gridiron. 
Entirely without plan, the freshmen found them- 
selves helpless before the more experienced sopho- 
mores. Even the advantage which the younger 
class had in numbers counted for nothing, owing 
to the fact that there was no way to distinguish 
friend from foe; this weakness, of course, resulted 
in their grappling and wrestling with each other, 
to the huge amusement of the sophomores who 
found time to witness these minor battles. 

In the first charge, Wayne had clung close to 
Moogers, but the shock of the onslaught made 
him lose sight altogether of both Eidenfessel and 
Terwilliger. Not until the attack had plainly 
failed did he catch sight of them again. Vainly 
but desperately, Terwilliger was struggling with a 


15 


THE CARDINAL CAP 

huge sophomore; near him Eidenfessel was being 
pushed back from the scene of the encounter by 
two more. 

Wayne did not pause to think of a plan. With 
all the force of his compact little body, he caromed 
against Terwilliger’s captor, utilizing the shoul- 
der push or thrust which the interference in foot- 
ball employs to prevent a tackier’ s downing the 
runner. With a grunt of dismay the big sopho- 
more toppled from his balance, releasing Ter- 
williger. 

“ Much obliged, Penny Penfield,” said that 
freshman, as the two turned to the task of rescu- 
ing Eidenfessel. “ Maybe you can play football, 
after all.” 

Wayne had no time to enjoy the glow of pleasure 
that he felt over the concession, for in another 
second they were struggling for Eidenfessel just as 
the old Greeks and Trojans must have fought for 
the body of Diomed. 

“ Get me loose,” gasped the German boy, 
“ and hurry quick. My sweater is all torn to 
pieces.” 

Wayne and Terwilliger each laid hold of a sopho- 
more, and Eidenfessel added his force. By dint 
of much tugging and pulling, the little group was 


16 THE FOURTH DOWN 

soon in motion toward the crowd of freshmen 
which had dropped back momentarily, and the 
warriors of the other camp, realizing the peril, 
were soon as eager to loose their captor and scurry 
to safety themselves as they had been a moment 
before to hold fast. 

Breathing hard, and much bedraggled and torn 
as to clothes, the freshmen presently gathered 
under the shadow of Science Hall. From the 
crowd about the flagstaff came the jeering battle- 
cry. 

“ What do you think we had better do, Penny 
Penfield?” asked Terwilliger, leaning weakly 
against the stone masonry. 

“I — well, we need a plan most of all. And we 
need to know each other. Let’s see — ” He 
swooped suddenly upon the burnt embers of a 
bonfire. “ Look here, if we rub our faces with 
this charcoal, we can at least recognize which are 
freshmen and which are not. That is the first 
step.” 

With yells of delight, Terwilliger and Eiden- 
fessel commenced smearing their cheeks with the 
burned fragments. Moogers followed their ex- 
ample more slowly, but the others needed no 
urging. In another minute, the freshman badge 


THE CARDINAL CAP 17 

of identification was on each face. There was no 
word spoken, but it seemed the entire class recog- 
nized Penfield Wayne as the author of the idea. 
They turned to him for further advice. 

“ What does the little fellow say? ” called a 
raw-boned farmer’s boy who had lost half a vest 
in the heat of the conflict. 

“ If you mean me,” said Wayne, “ I say, stick 
together. If we can form into something like one 
of those old flying wedges in football, we can 
cleave our way right through them to the pole. 
Then somebody might climb it and toss us the 
cap.” 

“Good!” shouted Wallie Moogers, jumping 
up from the grass. “ Come on, everybody, and 
try it.” 

As they formed into a compact mass, they 
caught once more the taunting cry from the 
sophomores : 

“ Sca-a-ared gre-e-en, freshmen! ” 

“ Oh, we are, are we? ” grunted the boy from 
the farm. “ Well, you just wait and see, that’s 
all. Now, who’s going to climb for us? Can you 
do it, little fellow? ” 

“ I’ll try,” answered Wayne stoutly, “ but I’m 
not much of a climber, I’ll confess.” 


18 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


“ All right, then, let me do it. I’ve shinnied up 
enough trees. Winkle’s my name.” 

“ Three cheers for Wee Willie Winkle,” shouted 
the irrepressible Terwilliger; and it was with this 
cheer on their lips, and with the very large Wee 
Willie Winkle at their head, that the freshmen 
formed for their second charge. 

“ That’s better,” approved Dad Lubbock, 
speaking to his player, Lakers; “ that’s the way 
it should have been done in the first place.” 

With a roar of triumph and defiance, the point 
of the V-shaped wedge bored its way into the 
loosely formed line of resisting sophomores. Be- 
fore its irresistible force, they scattered on either 
side, watching it clear a broad path to the very 
pole itself. 

“ Yea-a-a, freshmen!” 

It was the upper-classmen who were recognizing 
the freshman success in this manner, but the 
chargers, in the turmoil of the moment, had neither 
ears to listen nor breath to respond. They were 
forming about the flagstaff, struggling both to 
push back its erstwhile defenders and to clear a 
space at its base. Presently there came a brief lull. 

“ All right, Winkle,” encouraged Wallie Moo- 
gers, “ up you go.” 


THE CARDINAL CAP 


19 


With a spring from the big fellow’s broad shoul- 
ders, the country boy had begun his climb. From 
the corner of his eye, Wayne saw the sophomores 
preparing to reclaim their lost ground. Eiden- 
fessel also understood. 

“ Keep going,” he shouted to Wee Willie, “ and 
if we aren’t here when you come down, throw the 
cap — anywhere.” 

But something was clearly wrong. Winkle’s 
long legs wrapped themselves about the pole, and 
his hands reached high above his head for a fresh 
hold. Every limb wriggled as if he were climbing 
fast. But, as Wayne watched with puzzled eyes, 
the body above him slipped gradually closer and 
closer to the ground. 

The sophomore charge was now under way. 
Profiting by what they had experienced, it crashed 
upon the freshmen about the pole in the form of 
the old, discarded football wedge, scattering them 
right and left. As they fled before the attack, Ter- 
williger spoke. 

“ No use,” he coughed, fighting for breath. 
“ You were foolish to suggest such a plan. Why, 
you might have known the pole would be greased. 
That Wee Willie wonder couldn’t climb to the top 
if he were Sandow.” 


20 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


As the freshmen fled, leaving poor Winkle to slip 
down into the very arms of his enemies, the victo- 
rious sophomores sounded a new cry of derision : 

“ We don’t like to holler, 

We don’t like to boast, 

But we’ll eat the freshman 
Class on toast.” 

Even Terwilliger could discover no answer to 
this. Once more the class retreated to the shadow 
of Science Hall, where it massed for a fresh con- 
sultation, still dogged and hopeful, in spite of the 
two rebuffs. Once more it was Penfield Wayne 
who proposed a plan, this time far more original 
and promising than the other. 

“ But I don’t quite understand,” objected Petey 
Eidenfessel, as he listened to Wayne’s hurried 
directions. 

“ Run along to the store with Terwilliger,” sug- 
gested the other, “ and he will explain on the way. 
Won’t it work, Twig? ” 

“ With me to handle one end of it,” boasted Ter- 
williger, “ it can’t fail. It’s the best scheme yet.” 

“ But what is it? ” demanded Wallie Moogers, 
as he stared after the two departing freshmen. 

Wayne outlined briefly the plan. “ I thought 


THE CARDINAL CAP 


21 


of it,” he concluded, “ when I saw Winkle slipping 
on the pole, and realized that we could never get 
to the cap that way. I think it will work out.” 

“ It promises mighty well,” agreed Moogers 
enthusiastically, “ but we mustn’t let them sus- 
pect that we are waiting for anything. Just pass 
the word quietly, and we’ll keep the sophomores 
interested by pretending awfully hard to recapture 
Wee Willie Winkle.” 

Ten minutes later, the football coach yawned 
slightly. “ Well,” he said, “ we might as well go. 
It seems to be about all over except the shouting, 
and I have heard enough of that. They can’t 
climb the pole, and the college won’t let them 
chop it down. How else can the cap be secured? 
I hope none of my football material has been 
spoiled in this crazy game.” 

“ Wait a minute, Dad,” begged Lakers. “ I 
think something is going to happen. See that 
long-legged freshman on top of Science Hall, and 
— yes, sir, there’s a squatty chap on the roof of 
Pharmacy Hall, too.” 

About this time, the sophomores also discovered 
the two boys on the buildings. 

“ Come down, children,” yelled a wit; “ come 
down now, or I shall tell teacher on you.” 


22 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


Thunderous laughter greeted this sally. But 
Terwilliger, on Science Hall, and Eidenfessel, on 
Pharmacy Hall, seemed in nowise concerned. As 
the crowd on the campus watched, the former 
hurled a heavy stick from his roof to the 
other. 

“ I knew it,” exclaimed Lakers. “ I knew they 
had some idea. Just watch. Ah-h! ” 

“ I don’t understand,” confessed Dad Lub- 
bock, the coach. “ What is it? ” 

“ There was a cord attached to the stick one of 
them threw to the other. It stretches between 
them. Now you know what is coming.” 

Dad Lubbock was jumping about as excitedly 
as a child who has just found out what makes the 
wheels go around. 

“ Isn’t that great? ” he cried. “ They’ll bring 
the cord alongside the pole, give it a quick flip — 
and off goes the cap! Why, if the freshman who 
hatched that scheme has the build for it, he would 
do mighty well as quarter-back on the team, eh, 
Lakers?” 

The sophomores, too, had begun to understand. 
They moved nervously about the base of the pole, 
apparently unprepared to offset the advantage 
their rivals had gained. 


THE CARDINAL CAP 23 

“ You can’t get it loose,” called one of them; 
“ it’s nailed on.” 

“ Don’t be foolish,” boomed Arnie Borglum, the 
sophomore who played guard on the football team. 
“ It’s not fastened, of course. Spread out, fel- 
lows! Spread out and catch it when it falls.” 

The cord was now stretched tautly between 
Science and Pharmacy Halls, and was rubbing 
against the pole a few feet beneath the cardinal 
cap. 

“All ready, freshmen?” shouted Terwilliger. 

“All ready!” roared back Wallie Moogers. 

With a quick upward fling of his arm, Terwilliger 
raised the cord, snapping it smartly against the 
leather cap. For a moment, there was no result. 
Then the cardinal head-piece sailed into the air, 
while below on the campus scores of pairs of 
eager hands were raised to catch it. 


CHAPTER III 


“a find for the football team!” 

As the cardinal cap fluttered down toward the 
stubble of upstretched hands, Dad Lubbock drew a 
deep breath. Usually a man of very few words, 
and with a face that could be as expressionless as 
a sheet of white paper, the football coach was now 
visibly excited. Both Hood and Lakers looked at 
him curiously. 

“ What’s the matter, Dad? ” asked the latter. 

“ It’s the prettiest game I ever watched,” de- 
clared the coach. “ We’ve never had a better 
class rush at old Wellworth, and it’s due to the 
young Napoleon who is moving that freshman 
crowd.” 

The leather cap fell slowly, as a wounded bird 
might, and finally dropped into a group of sopho- 
mores clustered about the base of the pole. 

“ Follow the ball with your eyes, Lakers. See 
that little crowd up there? Do you know what 
those freshmen are going to do? It’s the old flying 


“A FIND FOR THE TEAM!” 25 


wedge formation we used back in the early nine- 
ties. And that little chap who is leading them, up 
there at the sharp point of the angle, is the one 
who has been managing the whole play. He will 
bear watching.” 

Once more the freshmen charged, and once more 
the sophomores gave way. At the very apex of 
the wedge was Penfield Wayne, with Moogers and 
Wee Willie Winkle on either side. Like a gigantic 
saw shearing through soft wood, they cut their 
way to the pole. Here, before the sophomores 
could mass to rush aid to the few who were de- 
fending the cap, the wedge opened and swallowed 
them. 

Dad Lubbock snapped his fingers nervously. 

“ No, they won’t get the cap — yet. Those 
fellows who are surrounded will throw it over the 
freshmen’s heads to their own classmen, and we 
shall have the rush running all over the upper 
campus, just as we did two years ago. I wonder 
if the little chap overlooked that point.” 

As the coach had prophesied, the cap was not 
yet won. The besieging party, conquering the 
minor obstacles, swept aside the few loyal guards, 
and closed in about the sophomore who held the 
coveted trophy. But as they pounced upon him, 


26 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


he dodged back a step or two, raised the cap in his 
right hand, and sent it sailing through the air for 
the second time that day. 

But he had not thrown at random. On the very 
outskirts of the human whirlpool, Arnie Borglum, 
the football player, was waiting. He had taken his 
place there as soon as his mind, from a vast expe- 
rience on the gridiron, had told him the futility 
of stopping the flying wedge. His arms were 
raised skyward, offering a target to the surrounded 
sophomore, and the cap whirled into his very 
hands. 

“ That ends it,” conceded Lakers. “ Borglum 
has it now.” 

This time it was the coach who refused to admit 
defeat for the freshmen. 

“ It’s not over yet,” he declared. “ Not quite 
over, Lakers. The game isn’t ever over till time 
is called — and the little fellow hasn’t admitted 
defeat.” 

Although he had led the attack of the charging 
class, Wayne had wasted no time in the futile 
scramble near the pole. Like Dad Lubbock, he 
had foreseen that before the sophomores would 
surrender the prize, they would at least risk a 
throw, and his keen eyes had discovered the foot- 


“A FIND FOR THE TEAM! ” 


27 


ball player edging out from the crowd. He was by 
Borglum’s side almost as soon as the cap was 
caught. 

“ It’s Waterloo for your Napoleon,” said Lakers 
softly. “ He’s a clever little boy, but if he knew a 
bit more he wouldn’t rush Arnie Borglum.” 

“ Watch him,” whispered Dad Lubbock. 
“ Watch him. I believe he’s a find for the football 
team. There! ” 

As Wayne swooped down upon the sophomore 
with the obvious intention of snatching the cap 
from him, Borglum smiled lazily, and shifted the 
leather head-gear to his other hand, to leave free 
the right for warding off the fiery freshman. But 
the boy, seeming suddenly to realize the impossi- 
bility of wresting the cap from Arnie, dived for his 
knees and brought him down with a perfect tackle. 

“ He’s tumbled over Borglum,” said Dad Lub- 
bock, with a hint of pride in his voice. “ Why, 
that little chap is a wonder — and look! He’ll 
have the cap in a minute.” 

Before Borglum could right himself, Moogers 
and another brawny freshman piled Upon him, 
and Wayne grasped the cap in both hands, tugging 
hard to jerk it free. 

Lakers shook his head. “ He can never pull 


28 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


that cap away from Arnie Borglum,” he declared, 
not without regret. “ With Arnie’s muscular fin- 
gers gripping it, the whole freshman class couldn’t 
get it.” 

Dad Lubbock seemed on the verge of an Indian 
war dance. “ Don’t you understand, Lakers? 
The sophomores greased that cap to make it more 
difficult to hold, if by any chance a freshman 
did climb the pole. Borglum’s grip is slipping 
now. The little chap’s rubbed something on his 
hands to offset the grease.” 

As a matter of fact, this was more the result of 
luck than precaution. A hard tumble in a bit of 
sandy soil had gritted Wayne’s hands, and the 
handling of the cap had left Borglum’s hold dis- 
tressingly treacherous. Once Penfield jerked with- 
out result, but on the second attempt the slippery 
leather trickled from the other’s clawing fingers. 

“ It’s his ball — cap, I mean,” fairly shouted the 
coach, much to the surprise of a serious-minded 
senior who chanced to be at his side, and who 
prided himself on being as emotionless as Dad 
Lubbock. “ Now watch him.” 

Along the foot of the upper campus ran Park 
Avenue. Between Wayne and this street was the 
greater portion of the outraged sophomores, al- 


“A FIND FOR THE TEAM!” 29 


ready pounding up the hill toward him. The boy 
followed his natural instinct to run up the gentle 
slope toward Main Hall, a hundred yards or more 
from the'point at which he had secured possession 
of the cap. Close at his heels followed Wee Willie 
Winkle and two or three others of the more nimble. 

“ Here, Lakers,” said Dad Lubbock, “ that 
won’t do. Run out there and tell him the rules.” 

The half-back smiled tolerantly, but offered no 
objection. As a junior, indeed, his sympathies 
were with the incoming class, and he raced forward 
to intercept the freshman. As he neared his side, 
Wee Willie Winkle pushed forward to protect the 
boy with the cap. 

“ Keep off, sophomore,” he warned grimly. 

Lakers laughed. “ I’m a junior,” he explained. 
“ I just wanted to explain that it doesn’t count to 
carry the cap off by way of Main Hall. The rule 
of the game is that it must leave the campus over 
Park Avenue, down there at the foot of the hill. 
If you look back, you will see that the sophomores 
have stopped running.” 

“ Thanks,” said Wee Willie. He was wasting 
no breath with unnecessary words. 

4 Wish you luck,” flung back Lakers, as he 
turned to move once more to Dad Lubbock’s side. 


30 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


. Penfield Wayne and his interference halted for 
a brief discussion of the situation. Back of them, 
the battle seemed to have broken out anew, and 
the sophomores had apparently forgotten all about 
the cap; for, except for a thin line that bisected 
the middle of the campus, they were concentrating 
their strength in a mighty struggle at the edge of 
the terrace that divided the campus from Park 
Avenue. 

Dad Lubbock chewed his lip. “ It is hardly 
fair, Lakers, but I am afraid the sophomores have 
the upper hand now. It’s a shame, too, that no- 
body explained that new rule to them.” 

“ What rule? ” 

“ Oh, I forgot you came back late last fall. 
Well, there was a ruling to the effect that any con- 
testant, freshman or sophomore, who was forced 
down the terrace into the street must be considered 
put of the game, as it were. . . . See! I knew it! ” 

With a mighty roar of triumph, an overwhelm- 
ing number of sophomores rushed a third of the 
freshman class to the edge of the slope, and, after 
a brisk struggle, on down to the walk. True, the 
vanquished dragged with them a few of the vic- 
tors, but the odds were all in favor of the second- 
year boys. 


“A FIND FOR THE TEAM! ” 31 

“Too bad! I don’t suppose half the freshmen 
knew anything about that ruling. See, they are 
trying to come back, but Henderson is umpiring 
and won’t allow it. Well, what’s our young hero 
going to do now, with his class disorganized?” 

The little group near the coach, of which Wayne 
was the center, was constantly increasing. Wee 
Willie Winkle was already there, with two or three 
others; to these were added Moogers, puffing 
violently; Eidenfessel and Terwilliger, come to 
earth from their respective roofs; Billick, a fresh- 
man clad in football togs; and Oskison, a sinewy 
youth whose shirt sleeves had been completely 
torn off in the struggle. From below, still others 
were running up the hill to them. 

“ Now, Lakers,” pointed out Dad Lubbock, 
“ we shall see if the boy has the real stuff in him 
of which generals are made. There is just one way 
for him to get the cap through that sophomore 
class. It’s so simple that he probably won’t think 
of it.” 

“ You mean he must take the chance of boring 
straight through? ” asked the football player. 

“ No, not that; another way! And if the boy 
has the common sense for which I give him credit, 
he will start it right now while the sophomores are 


32 THE FOURTH DOWN 

engaged in the modest task of cheering them- 
selves.” 

The sudden cessation of shouting at the foot of 
the hill marked the sudden movement of the fresh- 
men half way up the campus. Their charge ap- 
peared foolhardy; it seemed they were running 
point-blank against a stone-wall. With the sopho- 
mores barring their way, with a third of their own 
class disqualified and with the balance confused 
and disheartened, the chances of success were 
few. But Dad Lubbock smiled serenely. 

As the little band swung into action, it spread 
out in a slanting line, with Wayne tipping the 
lower end. In this formation, he was the first to 
reach the enemy, and was met by a sophomore 
who leaped toward him. The boy with the cap 
dodged quickly, almost eluding his tackier, and 
passing a dark object to Wee Willie Winkle as he 
fell. 

The next instant the attack swerved to the 
country boy, but not before he had thrown the ob- 
ject to Billick. By this time, almost the entire 
sophomore class was on the scent of the cap, fol- 
lowing it as eagerly as a football team does* a 
fumbled ball. Billick threw to Oskison, Oskison 
to Moogers, and — 


“A FIND FOR THE TEAM!” 


33 


“ They can’t make it,” said Lakers, genuinely 
disappointed. “ See, that big fellow didn’t have 
time to pass it along.” 

But Dad Lubbock was chuckling loudly, and 
beating his knee with his hand. 

“ They have made it, Lakers; they have made 
it. Can’t you follow the ball? The fat boy hasn’t 
the cap at all; it is under the belt of the little fel- 
low who started out with it. They’ve been throw- 
ing something else to each other.” 

It was true. Paying no attention to the fate of 
Moogers, who had been forcibly stopped on the 
other side of the field, Penfield Wayne was cover- 
ing the distance to the bottom of the hill with the 
speed of a hungry fox after a rabbit. But the 
course was not yet entirely clear. In his path was 
Arnie Borglum. 

It took the big sophomore an instant to realize 
the situation. During that tick of time, the 
runner had swerved to the right, and was on even 
terms with Borglum before the latter was in action. 
His .effort was worthy of better results, but the 
chase had begun too late. As he dived in a last 
futile effort at tackling, his fingers clutched 
Wayne’s clothes, gripped for a moment, and then 
tore loose. They were still greasy! 


34 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


The freshman ran on to the top of the terrace, 
paused to look behind him, and tumbled head- 
over-heels to the bottom. But the cap was still 
in his possession, and he had carried it from the 
campus. 

Dr. Henderson, gymnasium director and umpire, 
set him upon his feet. As he waited inquiringly, 
Wayne pulled forth the cardinal cap, and held it 
up. Immediately, the man blew a football whistle 
to mark the victory. 

For an instant, there was silence. On the 
campus above, the sophomores moved about in 
disgruntled groups, each accusing the other of 
negligence. The freshmen, very much scattered 
and not wholly sure of what had occurred, cheered 
feebly. 

A heavy hand clapped upon Wayne’s shoulder. 
Acting wholly on impulse, the boy lunged sud- 
denly at this new danger, and upset somebody, 
without quite realizing what he had done. The 
shouting stopped dead. 

“ Never mind, Penny Penfield,” mocked Ter- 
williger’s voice; “ you’ve only toppled over the 
football coach.” 

Wayne went suddenly cold. What was the 
fun of capturing a bit of cardinal leather if in do- 


“A FIND FOR THE TEAM! ” 35 


ing it he had sacrificed his chances of making the 
football team? If — Then, all at once, his mind 
brought him back to the present. 

“ — and won the cap for us, anyhow,” Wallie 
Moogers was saying. “ Fellows, all together now. 
What’s the matter with Penny Penfield Wayne? ” 
The answering shouts rattled the windows of 
Science Hall. 


CHAPTER IV 


SOPHOMORE VISITORS 

It was the day after the cap rush. On the little 
bed in his room, Penny Wayne tossed restlessly. 
For one thing, the afternoon sun, slanting in at 
the edges of the brown shades, disturbed his 
closed eyes; for another, there remained with him 
in his troubled dreams a sense of some great im- 
pending danger. 

As he slept, he was conscious enough to realize 
that he was dreaming, without having control 
enough of his mind to direct the queer fancies in 
their proper channels. Instead of dozing com- 
fortably, he found himself chasing through a hair- 
raising nightmare, in which he raced down an 
endless football field pursued by a score of furious 
coaches. In spite of the fact that the running 
would leave him no snap or dash for the practice 
that afternoon, they persisted in their unpleasant 
behavior; and, try as he would, he could not wake 
up. 



He wriggled to turn over, but the hands could not be 
shaken off. Page 37. 



SOPHOMORE VISITORS 37 

Suddenly, from the crowd that seemed to be 
watching, a tremendous figure leaped out at him; 
a thing clothed in a football suit of solid red. 
Without being told, he felt sure this was Dad 
Lubbock, the man he had so unceremoniously 
pushed into the gutter at the end of the class rush. 
He tried frantically to dodge, but the figure 
reached forth a long, entwining arm and — the 
boy waked to the workaday consciousness that 
somebody in real life was gripping at his 
coat. 

He wriggled to turn over, but the hands could 
not be shaken off. As his eyes worked fairly open, 
a pillow-slip was wrapped neatly about his head. 
He kicked wildly with both feet once; then he 
abandoned further leg-tactics, for the very good 
reason that somebody was sitting on these im- 
portant members. His arms he could not use at 
all, for from the very outset they had been firmly 
gripped and held close to his sides. 

“ Aw, Moogers!” he protested angrily. But 
he was promptly ashamed of the accusation; it 
was not Moogers, of course, nor any other fresh- 
men who were treating him in this way. 

Across his legs a small rope was being drawn so 
tightly that it cut. This accomplished, he was 


38 


THE FOURTH DOWN 

turned over quite as if he were a parcel that must 
be well tied. Around each wrist the rope was 
knotted, tied about his ankles, brought once more 
to wrists and arms, and finally wound snugly 
around his body, leaving him as helpless as a pap- 
oose on a board. 

As a crowning unpleasantness, a thumb and 
finger pinched his nose while another hand 
tucked a wad of cloth into his mouth. At last he 
realized the meaning of the words, “ bound and 
gagged.” 

“ Is it all right, Skid? ” asked a voice. 

“ All right, fellows.” 

“ Then we might as well leave you with him. 
Some of us will be within hailing distance, and if 
he proves obstinate Walber will relieve you at 
six. Anything more? ” 

“ Nothing, thank you. If the time drags, I can 
read a little medieval history. Good-bye, fellows. 
See you at six, Walber — or maybe earlier.” 

The door closed, and Penny heard the tramp of 
many feet descending the stairs. A moment later, 
the pillow-slip was gently removed from his head, 
and he looked up to discover bending overihim a 
boy whose face he remembered from yesterday’s 
rush. It was that of a sophomore who had fig- 


t 


SOPHOMORE VISITORS 


39 


ured in the struggles at the base of the pole. Just 
now he was smiling down at the prostrate fresh- 
man. 

“ My name is Skidmore,” he remarked pleas- 
antly; “ your name is Wayne, I believe. Glad to 
meet you, I’m sure. Sorry you can’t talk to me, 
but you see we could hardly afford to risk anything 
unless — ” he looked searchingly at the other 
— “ unless your word of honor is pretty good 
property. How about it? ” 

Penny wrinkled his forehead to indicate that 
he did not understand. 

“ This is what I mean, Wayne. We have you 
here, and we are prepared to keep you here. But 
there is no reason why you should have that gag 
in your mouth, provided you will give me your 
word not to call for help, nor to speak above a 
whisper if I tell you to stay quiet. Do you want 
to promise me that? ” 

Penny nodded. 

Skidmore paused a moment before removing 
the cloth from the other’s mouth. “ This is your 
word of honor, remember! ” The freshman 
nodded again, and the captor deftly removed the 
gag with thumb and forefinger. 

For a second or two, Wayne was inclined to be 


40 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


angry, and it was with some difficulty that he 
controlled his temper. 

“ What is this? ” he demanded. “ Do you call 
it ‘ a way they have at old Wellworth ? 9 ” 

Skidmore nodded appreciatively. “ It’s just 
that. How do you like it? ” 

“ I am hugely pleased/’ remarked Penny iron- 
ically. “ I feel like a chicken all ready for roast- 
ing. May I ask if you contemplate kidnaping 
me or burning me at the stake? ” 

“ Neither, my dear Wayne,” said the other, 
with a pained expression on his face, belied only 
by his twinkling eyes. “ You are just going to 
stay right there on your comfy little bed.” 

“ Stay here? ” Penny’s voice was incredulous. 
“ You mean, stay here trussed up like this? ” 

“ Exactly!” 

This was too much for the freshman’s temper. 
“ I won’t stand it,” he declared warmly. 

“ But you seem to be standing it very well,” 
observed Skidmore dryly, “ or, rather, lying it.” 

Penny stiffened his back into an arch, strain- 
ing every muscle. The rope gave no particle, and 
he relaxed with a murmur of anger. 

“ But look here, what’s the sense of this joking? 
What’s the reason for bundling me up like this? ” 


SOPHOMORE VISITORS 


41 


“ Oh, there’s a very good reason,” said the 
sophomore, tossing an extra cushion into the 
Morris-chair and sitting down. 

“ But I can’t stay here,” objected the captive. 
“ You see, this is the first day of football practice, 
and Mr. Lubbock says positively that every man 
trying for the team must report to him in the 
locker room of the gymnasium at 3.15.” He 
squirmed over on his side as far as the ropes would 
permit. “ Why, if you will look at that little clock 
on the mantel, you will find the alarm set for three 
o’clock.” 

Skidmore smiled agreeably. “ Yes, we all know 
about the practice,” he said. “ The only question 
is whether you want to be there at 3.15 or not.” 

“ Of course, I want to be there.” 

“ Very well. Now, answer me one little ques- 
tion, and I’ll turn you loose.” 

“ I don’t understand.” 

The sophomore stood up, and looked squarely 
into his eyes. “ As the ring-leader of the rush 
yesterday, you managed to carry the cardinal 
cap off the upper campus. You either told the 
others of your class where to hide it or agreed with 
their suggestions. Anyhow, you must know where 
it is. Don’t you ? ” 


42 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


Penny nodded. Even at that moment, Terwil- 
liger was supposed to be crossing the lake to place 
it beneath a certain boat-house. Of course, he 
knew where it was to be hidden. 

“ Good! Now for the question. Where is that 
cardinal cap?” 

The freshman was plainly disconcerted. “ Why, 
that’s our business,” he retorted. “ I can’t tell 
you that.” 

“ No? ” Skidmore sat down, apparently in no 
whit disappointed. “ In that case, my young 
friend, I shall have the pleasure of remaining with 
you all of this beautiful afternoon. At six, if you 
still refuse to tell us the hiding-place, my class- 
mate, Mr. William Effenwell Walber, will relieve 
me. Can I help you to a drink of water or any- 
thing of that kind? No? All right. Please do 
not forget yourself by raising your voice, or it may 
prove embarrassing to both of us.” 

After a minute or two of silence, the freshman 
looked at the little alarm clock. It was 2.30. He 
announced this fact to his guard. 

“ Of course,” said Skidmore pleasantly. “ Tern- 
pus certainly does fugit. In another minute it 
will be twenty-nine of three. Unless you have 
made up your mind to remain here indefinitely, 


SOPHOMORE VISITORS 


43 


you might give me the desired information now. 
Dad Lubbock is a mighty strict disciplinarian, 
and has little patience with candidates who do 
not report for the first practice.” 

Wayne shut his lips grimly. A fly buzzed over 
his face, and Skidmore courteously fanned it 
away. On the mantel, the little clock ticked in a 
maddening, methodical manner; as if it were in- 
tent only upon carrying the minute hand half- 
way around the dial in the shortest possible time. 
The sophomore smiled to himself, and all at once 
Penny decided the whole thing must be a practi- 
cal joke. At the proper moment, he would be 
released. No class would keep an ambitious 
player from football practice merely to find out 
where a cap was hidden. From this point in the 
reasoning, it was only another step to the argu- 
ment that no candidate would miss football prac- 
tice merely to keep a secret about the hiding-place 
of a soiled leather trophy. 

“ Have you a dictionary? ” asked the sopho- 
more, looking up from his book. 

“ On the lower shelf of that little book-case.” 

“ Thank you,” said Skidmore politely. He was 
apparently making himself at home. 

Slowly but inevitably, the hands of the clock 


44 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


crept around the dial. It was twenty-five minutes 
of three — twenty-two — twenty! The time- 
piece ticked on without cessation. Occasionally, 
the sophomore turned a page in his book. Except 
for these noises, there was not a sound. 

But even as the boy on the bed twisted his head 
uneasily, the silence was broken. He caught his 
breath with a little gasp of hope. Somebody was 
coming up the front stairs. It was probably 
Moogers, and — yes, he was certain of it now — 
Eidenfessel was with him. They would open the 
door and — 

The sophomore leaped silently to his feet. With 
one finger on his lips, to remind Wayne of his 
promise to remain still, he tiptoed to the door and 
turned the key. Both of the occupants of the 
room waited expectantly. 

“ Locked,” came Moogers’ heavy voice. “ We’re 
too late to catch him.” 

“ He told me to stop for him,” argued Eiden- 
fessel, “ and I should call to walk with him to 
the gymnasium.” 

“ I know, but he’s so eager to get to the practice 
on time that he’s probably started an hour ahead. 
Come on; we are sure to find him at the gymna- 
sium.” 


SOPHOMORE VISITORS 45 

The two freshmen moved away from the door, 
and tramped heavily back down the stairs. Skid- 
more drew a long breath. 

“ Pretty close call, that,” he observed. 

“ It isn’t a joke, I’m afraid,” Penny told him- 
self, glancing from the imperturbable captor to 
the clock, which marked the time at 2.50. “ I 

must get loose somehow or other. Why, I can’t 
miss the first practice, and offend the coach again.” 

He twisted his right hand, but made no progress. 
So tightly was the rope tied that it was out of the 
question to work it free. He tried the leg knots, 
but they, too, proved fast and unyielding. Before 
he was done with his tests, it was five minutes of 
three. 

But he had not given up hope, and presently 
he saw a possible escape. Altogether foolishly, his 
captors had secured him with a single piece of 
rope, carrying it from his arms to his feet and 
back again. If he could only get a little slack, 
he might loosen one of the knots in this fashion! 
He maneuvered cautiously, and finally discovered 
that he could move his right leg slightly, and thus 
relieve the taut bonds. 

He set to work furtively but with every nerve 
bent to the effort. Although there was no time to 


46 THE FOURTH DOWN 

waste, it was necessary to accomplish the result 
without disturbing Skidmore. Slowly and with 
infinite patience, he rolled his right foot about in 
the loop that bound it, gradually working it loose 
until it caught only at the heel. A final jerk would 
release it. 

It was now two minutes of three. 

He kicked silently, realizing that he must work 
cautiously until he had utilized the slack of the 
rope and could free his hands. If — 

The sophomore yawned and arose. “ They 
told me to look you over every little while,” he 
apologized, coming over to the bed. Then he 
whistled. “ Hello! What are you, anyhow? King 
of the handcuffs? Well, I am afraid I must sew 
you up all over again. . . . What’s that? ” 

The sudden interruption was the ding-a-ling of 
the alarm clock, set for the hour of three. The 
clanging set aquiver every tense nerve of Wayne’s 
body. An anger filled his heart. Why should he 
be chosen to suffer all these indignities for a ridicu- 
lous cap? Surely, he had done his share the day 
before in planning the means of knocking it from 
the pole and then in outwitting the sophomores 
and carrying it from the campus. It was utterly 
unreasonable to expect him to miss the first foot- 


SOPHOMORE VISITORS 47 

ball practice because he chose to remain silent 
about the hiding-place of the cardinal cap. 

“ I’ll tell you where it is,” he told Skidmore 
suddenly. “ Terwilliger took it over to Spring 
Point this afternoon. He is going to hide it under 
the second boat-house from the end. Yes, I am 
willing to give you my word of honor I am telling 
the truth. Now, take off this fool rope.” 

His captor raised the window, and poked out a 
cautious head. 

“ All right, fellows,” he called. 

Then he quickly untied the rope that bound 
Wayne, waited until his class-mates had come to 
the door, and bowed himself out with elaborate 
politeness. 


CHAPTER V 


IN THE SWIMMING - TANK 

The instant his unwelcome callers were gone, 
Wayne tossed his football togs into an old suit- 
case, and hurried across the lower campus to the 
gymnasium. Here, seated upon the iron fence that 
protected the patch of green lawn in front of the 
main entrance, he discovered Wallie Moogers, 
Petey Eidenfessel and Wee Willie Winkle, all 
wearing new hats. As Penny approached, they 
saluted him gravely by raising them from their 
heads. 

To the boy’s disappointment, however, both 
Moogers and Winkle declined flatly to join him 
in reporting for the first football practice. Eiden- 
fessel, too, seemed disinclined to try for the team. 

“ I don’t care much for the game,” he confessed 
frankly, “ and Terwilliger tells me a freshman has 
about as much chance of making the varsity eleven 
as — as the sophomores have of getting back that 
cardinal cap yet.” 


49 


IN THE SWIMMING- TANK 

u Oh! ” said Wayne, startled by a sudden twinge 
of conscience. “ Oh! ” Then, as the three looked 
at him in surprise, he stumbled on with his speech. 
“ Why, of course a freshman has a chance. There’s 
no first-year rule at Wellworth, and I understand 
the coach expects to develop several new players 
to take the place of those who graduated last year. 
Besides, Terwilliger thrives on unfounded suspi- 
cions, doesn’t he? ” 

Moogers nodded carelessly. “ About as pessi- 
mistic as he is refreshing,” he grinned good-na- 
turedly. 

Eidenfessel stepped down from the fence. 
“ Well,” he said doubtfully, “ I don’t mind getting 
out for a day or two, no. Come along, poys.” 

u It’s too comfortable here,” declined Moogers 
lazily. 

“ I’d like to join you,” confessed Winkle, “ but 
— well, there’s a reason why I can’t. I’ll see you 
later in the gymnasium.” 

As nothing Penny could say altered their de- 
cision, he and Eidenfessel finally moved on into 
the building without them. In the dressing-room, 
with its long rows of lockers, or clothes-closets, 
the two found a noisy crowd donning sweaters, 
jackets and padded moleskins. Here and there 


50 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


they saw a cardinal jersey, with a great white W 
on the breast, but for the most part the playing 
togs were of a nondescript type that proclaimed 
the wearers either new candidates or fellows who 
had failed to win the varsity letter the previous 
season. 

Long before the more stolid Eidenfessel had 
arrayed himself to his satisfaction, Wayne was in 
his own suit and eager to be up and away. When 
they finally emerged from the gymnasium, the 
lower campus was dotted freely with players, and 
around the outskirts lounged scores of spectators, 
who had turned out to witness the first practice. 

The coach, Dad Lubbock, began by trotting the 
whole squad twice around the field as a breather. 
Next, he separated them into two general groups: 
in one, all candidates for line positions, with the 
exceptions of those who were trying for ends; in 
the other, candidates for full-back, quarter, halves 
and ends. The first group he turned over to a tall, 
muscular young fellow, who proved to be Parker, 
the captain of the team; and the other squad he 
took under his own wing. As Eidenfessel was try- 
ing for half-back, and Wayne for quarter, the two 
found themselves in this latter division, under the 
watchful eye of Dad Lubbock himself. 


IN THE SWIMMING -TANK 


51 


The coach led them to one side of the campus, 
where a padded effigy, stuffed with hay, dangled 
from a scaffold, for all the world like a man 
who had been hanged. This proved to be the 
“ dummy,” which they tackled in turn, and which 
was so arranged with weights and a rope and pulley 
that it could be carried several feet and brought to 
earth. 

Eidenfessel’s turn came before his class-mate’s. 
His tackle was not a pronounced success, and Dad 
Lubbock made him try it again. 

“ Fight it,” he commanded; “ go at it with 
more steam, as if it were trying to escape, and 
bring it down hard — hard! Get it just above 
the knees. Don’t shrink when you tackle. Now, 
let me see you do it once more. . . . That’s a little 
better, but you are too mild with it. Not afraid, 
are you ? ” 

The tackier shook his head without speaking, 
but Penny Wayne saw the blood come to his 
cheeks. He was about to offer a word of consola- 
tion when Dad Lubbock singled him out. 

“ Here, you little fellow over there. Wayne, 
aren’t you? You ought to prove fiery enough, if 
I may judge from what I observed and — er — ex- 
perienced yesterday. All ready now! ” 


52 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


Penny shut his lips tightly, fixed his eyes upon 
that portion of the dummy which he meant to 
grasp, and ran forward toward the swinging figure. 
He caught it neatly, carrying it with him as he 
fell. But just as he was dropping upon it, his fin- 
gers slipped, and the dummy jerked free of his 
arms altogether. He rose to his feet with a sheep- 
ish grin. 

“ A real runner would shake himself free every 
time,” said the coach dryly. “ Don’t show us how 
graceful and how fast you are; the sole object is 
to down the dummy with a fair tackle. At it 
again! ” 

The second time, Penny ran more slowly, and 
gripped the grotesque figure more firmly. When 
he had wrestled it to the ground, he rose and 
flapped the dirt from his padded pants, firm in the 
belief that the tackle deserved a word of praise. 

“ Next man! ” snapped Dad Lubbock. “ Never 
mind making your toilet, Wayne; we’ll try falling 
on the ball presently.” 

Penny’s fists clenched suddenly. He was con- 
scious — or believed he was, which amounted to 
the same thing — of a subtle enmity toward him 
on the part of the coach. Could it be possible that 
the man was petty enough to harbor a prejudice 


IN THE SWIMMING -TANK 53 

because he had bumped into him yesterday? If 
that proved the case — 

“ It was a goot tackle,” affirmed Eidenfessel at 
his side, shaking his head doubtfully and staring 
at the coach. “ A goot tackle, Penny.” 

After a few minutes, Dad Lubbock signified 
that they were finished with the dummy for the 
present, and that the next practice would be fall- 
ing upon the ball. This he began himself, showing 
them how to throw their bodies upon the rolling 
leather, gather it in their arms, and then curl 
protectingly about it. 

Both Eidenfessel and Wayne had been through 
this drill on their high school teams. The German 
boy’s attempt brought no praise from the coach, 
but neither did it warrant criticism, which was 
proof that he was satisfied. Penny, however, de- 
termined to win a word of commendation when his 
turn came. Instead of falling upon the ball and be- 
ing technically downed where he lay, the freshman 
plunged for it, hit the soft turf with his shoulder, 
and, completing a somersault, landed full upon his 
feet, with the oval tucked under his arm. A little 
murmur of applause rippled from the crowd on 
the side-lines. 

But Dad Lubbock was not pleased. “ Wayne,” 


54 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


he said curtly, “ we will dispense with any grand- 
stand play. I told you to fall upon the ball, and 
not to do a tumbling act. Try again.” 

Penny obeyed sullenly. He was certain now 
that the coach was singling him out for unjust 
criticism. There were tears of rage in his eyes 
when he brought back the ball the second time, 
and he whispered to Eidenfessel that Terwilliger 
might be right about a freshman’s having no 
chance to make the team. 

Presently, after each candidate had been given 
an opportunity to fall upon the ball, Dad Lub- 
bock called to the other squad, which was crouch- 
ing before an imaginary opposing team and char- 
ging forward at a signal from Parker. When the 
linemen had joined the other division, the coach 
held up his hand. 

“ That will be all for today,” he announced. 
“ Tomorrow, we shall try tackling a runner with 
the ball, and lining up two or three elevens for pre- 
liminary signal practice. Trot around the field 
twice, and then take a shower bath in the gymna- 
sium.” 

As Penny Wayne fell in with the others, he was 
conscious of an overwhelming sense of disappoint- 
ment. For this routine bit of exercise, he had 


IN THE SWIMMING -TANK 


55 


sacrificed — no, perhaps that wasn’t the word; 
but he had done something very much against his 
natural inclination just to be present at the first 
practice. What he had expected it to develop, he 
could not have made clear to himself; but it had 
seemed inadequate and childish. Still, Dad Lub- 
bock had been coaching for many years, and must 
know his business, and be efficient, and earnest, 
and fair — Here he gulped uncertainly, inter- 
rupting the train of his thought. Presently, how- 
ever, he was smiling again, and not nearly as ready 
to condemn. Perhaps, after all, if he practised 
faithfully, and took extreme care not to offend on 
or off the field, Dad Lubbock would quickly forget 
the accident of the day before. 

The freshman took his shower baths, first hot 
and then cold, and rubbed his body with a rough 
towel until the skin glowed red and warm. As 
he started toward his locker, he heard his name 
called, and whirled quickly on his heels. Protru- 
ding from a half-opened door was Wee Willie 
Winkle’s red head, with the hair wet and glisten- 
ing, and Wee Willie Winkle’s beckoning finger. 
Behind him was the swimming-tank. 

Penny walked toward it. When he was almost 
there, the door closed in his very face. As he 


56 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


swung it open, and passed into the great room, a 
hand slapped loudly upon his back, and a voice 
cried: 

“Tag! You’re it!” 

Before Wayne could move, Winkle had dived 
from the low marble balcony into the tank. A 
dozen heads were bobbing up and down in the 
water. On a high spring-board at one end, Oskison 
was balancing himself. In a trapeze near the 
middle, from which a rope ladder dropped to the 
water’s surface, sat Wallie Moogers, swinging con- 
tentedly to and fro. % 

Penny laughed happily. The tank, with its 
water churned into foam by the many splashing 
swimmers, looked wonderfully cool and inviting; 
and the promise of a brisk game of tag, with chases 
that might lead from end to end, and up and off 
the diving-board, and down the chute, and over 
the trapeze, made the boy’s eyes sparkle in antici- 
pation of the fun. Down in his heart, moreover, 
Wayne was proud of his aquatic skill. 

He hesitated a moment, searching among the 
bobbing heads below him until he found one that 
was moving rapidly enough to put him to the 
test. Toward this he dived suddenly, cleaving the 
water with his hands above his head, and going 


IN THE SWIMMING -TANK 


57 


beneath the surface with hardly a ripple to mark 
his passage. When he came up again, in the 
middle of the tank, the swimmer whom he had 
marked was five yards away, propelling himself 
rapidly with a side-stroke that permitted a full 
view of his pursuer. Penny promptly gave 
chase. 

He began with the breast-stroke, but finding he 
was losing rather than gaining shifted to the over- 
hand. Even with this graceful movement, that 
sent him along with the speed of a fish, he seemed 
unable to close the gap between the scurrying 
swimmer and himself. It was not until the end of 
the tank was reached, however, that he admitted 
to himself he had met his match. There the other 
scrambled up the steps to the marble platform, 
waited until Wayne was reaching out a hand for 
the stairway, and then dived cleanly over his head 
back into the water behind him. 

Attempting to catch him now was folly; the 
dive had carried him ten yards away before the 
freshman could turn. From the trapeze came 
Moogers’ shout of derision. Penny climbed from 
the water, and edged carelessly along the side of 
the landing, jumping suddenly for the rope ladder 
below Wallie. Before the good-natured giant 


58 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


could snatch it out of reach, Wayne had it in his 
hand and was climbing rapidly. Moogers tried 
to dive, but the swinging bar upon which he was 
perched offered no stable foundation for his feet, 
and he dropped sprawling into the water, like 
some great Newfoundland dog. As he rose to the 
surface, spluttering and coughing, Penny touched 
his shoulder. 

“ You’re it, Wallie Moogers,” he laughed. 

The big fellow turned reproachful eyes upon him. 
“ Why pick on me? ” he demanded. “ I don’t see 
why you couldn’t have kept trailing Phil Elton. 
That would have been real sport.” 

“ Who is he? ” asked Wayne. 

“Oh, nobody much: only the hundred-yard 
champion of this part of the world, that’s all. 
You were after him a minute ago — quite a ways 
after him, though!” 

Moogers climbed a stairway to the marble edge 
of the tank, and squatted down, daring the more 
active and faster swimmers to come near him. 
Twice he dived suddenly, and twice roars of laugh- 
ter proclaimed his clumsy misses. But in the end 
he tagged a careless loiterer, who sank beneath 
the surface a second too late to avoid the fat boy’s 
lunge. Curiously enough, this proved to be Elton, 


IN THE SWIMMING- TANK 59 

the last fellow in the tank one would expect to be 
caught napping. 

Before that swimmer called out a warning that 
he was after Wayne, the boy had guessed as much. 
This time the advantage was his, for it is easier in 
the water to evade than it is to catch. He accepted 
the challenge by surging down the tank with an 
overhand stroke, allowing his head to go beneath 
the surface with each dip of either arm, and draw- 
ing in rapid breaths as he rolled from side to side. 
Once he glanced back, only to discover Elton cut- 
ting the water behind as a speed-boat might do. 
After that, he concentrated every ounce of leg and 
arm and shoulder muscle, and every thought, upon 
reaching the ladder at the end before his pursuer 
had closed in on him. 

He succeeded easily. He had grasped it, in- 
deed, and scrambled to the top step before the 
other was at its foot. Profiting by his earlier ex- 
perience, he doubled back into the tank by diving 
over Elton’s head. But the champion, counting 
upon this, kicked away from the stairway with a 
mighty leg-thrust that shot him far out. When 
Penny, therefore, after swimming under water 
for some yards, ventured to the surface, the other 
was almost upon him. 


60 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


But as he reached to tag, the freshman swerved 
suddenly and escaped, sinking into the deep water 
without a second’s hesitation. Here he reversed 
his direction, and passed beneath a dark shadow 
that must have marked the position of Elton, float- 
ing on the surface. When he emerged again, it 
was back at the stairway he had just deserted. 

This time he climbed hurriedly to the top, and 
raced along the platform. The other followed an 
instant later, like a tardy shadow. Many of the 
swimmers had stopped to watch this friendly test 
of skill, and a number of students in street clothes 
had drifted into the room and were standing along 
the sides, enjoying the fun. 

The race grew more exciting. Penny dived, 
swam across the tank, dived again, doubled under 
water, and raced along on the marble footpath. 
He climbed the long chute, waited until Elton was 
almost upon him, and slid down its long incline. 
As he drifted under the trapeze, he caught the 
rope ladder and pulled himself up to the bar, drop- 
ping off feet-first as his pursuer unconsciously 
steadied the swinging ropes by holding fast to the 
bottom rung. A moment later, he dived from the 
spring-board at one end, going almost straight 
down, and came up in its very shadow, to laugh 


IN THE SWIMMING -TANK 


61 


heartily at the chagrin of Elton, out near the 
middle of the tank. A burst of applause greeted 
this maneuver. 

After a bit, however, Wayne began to tire. The 
unnatural exercise of the afternoon was beginning 
to manifest itself in aching muscles and protesting 
heart and lungs. He swam now with a great effort, 
and his diving was no longer clean-cut. As the 
other appeared equally weary, they took to scam- 
pering about on the marble bank that skirted the 
water, dipping into the tank only when the stern 
necessities of the chase demanded. 

Now, wet marble offers a treacherous foothold, 
as Penny presently discovered. He had climbed 
out at the side facing the door, and some foolish 
impulse tempted him to dodge back of a little 
group of spectators who stood there. As he circled 
in behind them, the slippery surface proved his 
undoing. His feet shot from under him, and he 
lunged involuntarily toward the tank, crashing 
full-force into somebody in street clothes who un- 
happily barred his way. Together the two of them 
slid to the brink of the great bowl, unable to &tay 
their progress, and toppled gently over its edge 
into the water below. 

A dozen willing hands fished out the drenched 


62 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


spectator. Almost before Wayne realized what 
he had done, the victim of the accident was up on 
the platform, peering down at the boy. It was 
Dad Lubbock! 

There followed an awful pause. The freshman 
could think of nothing to say by way of extenua- 
tion, and the coach, after gulping uncertainly once 
or twice, smoothed his face into its emotionless 
expression, and pressed his lips hard together. 
Over at one side, Wallie Moogers giggled foolishly. 

Presently Dad Lubbock spoke. 

“ Candidates for the football team, Wayne,” he 
observed evenly, “ are not supposed to use the 
swimming-tank. Kindly remember that in the 
future.” 

Then he turned about abruptly, and stalked out 
of the room. As the door closed after him, Wallie 
Moogers touched Penny with his hand. 

“ You’re it, Penny Penfield,” he said. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE CLASS ELECTION 

Sick at heart, Wayne found his way to his locker 
and dressed as quickly as he could. But when he 
had walked forth from the gymnasium, leaving be- 
hind the damp, steamy atmosphere of the baths, 
and had breathed deep draughts of the crisp, clean 
air outside, his head cleared and his spirits re- 
vived. After he had marched twice around the 
block, indeed, he was smiling again, and his step 
was as buoyant as it had ever been. He forgot his 
petty troubles. He ceased to worry about Dad 
Lubbock’s state of mind toward him. He — why, 
of course that accounted for the queer feeling at 
the pit of his stomach — he was hungry, raven- 
ously hungry. 

He turned the corner of the Historical Library, 
and broke into an easy trot across the lower cam- 
pus toward his boarding-house. After he had 
burst into the hallway, with a great slamming of 
doors that brought Mrs. Pillsbury’s startled face 


64 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


into view from the neighborhood of the kitchen, 
he panted himself into a calmer state of lungs, 
and walked into the dining-room. At the second 
table sat Moogers and Eidenfessel, talking to- 
gether in low tones. 

He dropped easily into a vacant chair at their 
left. “ Yes, HI take some soup,” he told the 
waitress. Then he looked hard at Moogers’ set 
face. “ What’s the matter, Wallie? Lost all your 
money? ” 

There was a full minute of silence before the 
other deigned to answer. When he did, he turned 
to face Wayne, looking him full in the eyes. 
“ No,” he said slowly, “ I haven’t lost any money. 
It’s worse than that. I’ve lost a friend.” 

The very tone was an accusation. Wayne 
stared hard at the tablecloth, noting the damp in- 
dentation left by his water-glass. The circular 
crease leered at him like a human eye, and he 
smoothed the linen with his little finger. 

“I — I don’t understand what you mean, 
Moogers.” 

“ Don’t you?” the big fellow asked unbe- 
lievingly. “ Well, perhaps if you live long enough, 
you will. . . . Come on, Eidenfessel, aren’t you 
nearly through eating? ” 


THE CLASS ELECTION 


65 


The German boy looked at Wayne as he an- 
swered. “ No,” he said, “ I am not through yet, 
but I think I go already. It is close here — now. 
It is hard for me to make a good breath.” 

Penny felt the blood rush to his face, flooding it 
with crimson, and then retreat, leaving him cold 
and white. As he leaned back in his chair, the 
others rose and walked to the door. A sudden dis- 
taste for food seized the boy at the table. 

“ I am not hungry,” he apologized, as the hot 
soup was placed before him; “ no, I am not hun- 
gry. I : — I don’t believe I can eat anything to- 
night.” 

He rose quickly, jerked his cap from the hall- 
rack, and rushed out after his friends. When he 
caught up with them, they were almost at the 
corner. 

“ Well? ” said Moogers, unsmiling. 

“ What’s the matter, Wallie? What have I 
done? What’s happened since I left you in the 
gymnasium? ” 

“ It happened before that,” put in Eidenfessel; 
“ before you asked me to play football, yes.” He 
clicked his heels together and threw back his 
shoulders. “ You — you are a traitor, Mr. 
Wayne.” 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


Penny tried to speak, but a sudden lump in his 
throat choked back the denial. Moogers looked 
to right and left for possible eavesdroppers, and, 
finding none, raised his voice. 

“ Yesterday afternoon,” he confessed, “ I liked 
you immensely. This afternoon, in the swimming- 
tank, I liked you, too. But after this, you are not 
my friend.” 

“ But why? ” persisted Penny. “ What’s hap- 
pened? ” 

“ You know well enough,” accused Moogers, 
very distressed and yet very earnest. His forehead 
was wrinkled with myriad little lines, and his heavy 
face looked more serious than the boy had ever 
seen it before. “ Skidmore, the sophomore, comes 
from my town. He told me that when some of his 
class went to your room early this afternoon, and 
asked where the cardinal cap was hidden, you told 
them. Did you ? ” 

Penny wriggled uncomfortably. “ They — they 
were going to keep me away from football practice.” 

“ Did you tell ? ” 

“ Well, what if I did? Who had a better right? 
I won the cap for the freshmen, didn’t I? If I 
liked, I had a perfect right to give it back. Why 
not?” 


THE CLASS ELECTION 


67 


“ ‘ Why not ? 9 99 repeated Moogers, looking 
away and speaking with what seemed an effort. 
“ I’ll tell you why not. Because it wasn’t yours 
to give. You went into the rush yesterday, not 
for yourself, but for your class. It was never your 
cap; it belonged to the whole class — to Eiden- 
fessel here, and to Terwilliger, and to me, and to 
every other freshman at Wellworth. And when 
you told where it was hidden, you parted with a 
secret that was ours to keep, not yours alone.” 

“ That is right, exactly,” assented Eidenfessel, 
nodding vigorously. 

To Penny, this was the culmination of the sore 
trials of the day. What was infinitely worse, he 
was beginning to realize the logic of his class- 
mate’s arguments. He had acted hastily, perhaps, 
and without considering the greater issue, but — 
“ If I hadn’t told,” he protested weakly, “ I 
should have missed the football practice.” 

“ What of it? ” demanded Moogers. “ Does 
your individual ambition overshadow everything 
else? Must the freshman class be sacrificed that 
you may gain your end ? Suppose they came again 
tomorrow; would you offer them Mrs. Pillsbury’s 
furniture as a bribe to let you escape? ” 

Penny dug his hands into his pockets, and stared 


68 THE FOURTH DOWN 

dully across the street. Before he spoke, he 
blinked uncertainly. 

“I — I didn’t understand,” he said in a 
low voice. “ Does everybody know what I 
did?” 

“ Not yet,” admitted Moogers. “ Skidmore 
wouldn’t have told even me if I hadn’t overheard 
him talking about it to another sophomore. I 
think they are a little disappointed in you, even 
if they did get the information they wanted. I 
suppose Eidenfessel and I are the only freshmen 
who have heard of it.” 

With great difficulty, Penny swallowed the 
lump in his throat. He looked silently at Moogers 
for a moment, and then turned away. But he had 
gone only a few yards when the big fellow caught 
his sleeve. 

“ Wayne,” he offered, “ I suppose there are two 
sides to the story, just as there are to every one. 
I am willing to concede that you made it possible 
for us to win the cap yesterday. That’s in your 
favor. It is possible, too, that you didn’t fully 
realize the significance of what you were doing to- 
day when you told where Terwilliger had gone to 
hide it. I know the fellows are going to put you 
up for president of the class at the meeting to- 


THE CLASS ELECTION 69 

night, and it is almost a certainty that you will be 
elected if this story doesn’t come out.” 

Penny turned a drawn face to Moogers. “ I’d 
almost forgotten about the class meeting. Where 
is it to be held ? ” 

“ Room 1 6, Main Hall,” said Moogers. “ I 
won’t mention this affair. I can keep a secret even 
if you can’t.” And he darted back to Eidenfessel’s 
side. 

For several minutes Penny stood on the corner 
undecided. A dozen plans raced through his brain. 
He even thought of taking what money he had 
left and buying a ticket back home. But he 
brushed aside the thought as cowardly; he must 
face the consequences, whatever they might be. 
Perhaps, after all, everything would come out all 
right. 

Presently he turned toward the upper campus, 
and climbed the hill toward Main Hall. What 
had he done, anyhow, that was so awful? Big 
Moogers was a sentimentalist. His class wouldn’t 
care much whether the sophomores took the cap 
or not. Certainly, it couldn’t require him to miss 
football practice on that account, just for a piece 
of leather. He was his own master. If the 
bulk of the class ever learned of the episode, it 


70 THE FOURTH DOWN 

must understand his point of view. Why, of 
course! 

By the time he had reached the building, he was 
once more in a sunny frame of mind which carried 
him jauntily past the fellows at the door and up to 
a seat near the front of the great lecture-room. 
All about him were the fellows who had followed 
him to victory the day before. As he sat down 
somebody called, “ What’s the matter with Penny 
Penfield?” and the whole room volleyed back, 
“He’s all right!” 

Wee Willie Winkle, whom he had left in the 
tank two hours earlier, squeezed into a seat by his 
side. Instinctively, Wayne shrank back, fearing 
that the country lad had heard the story, and 
might misconstrue it. But his fear was unfounded. 

“ Feeling all right, they tell me,” he greeted. 

“ Pretty good, thank you.” 

“ Well, don’t get tired too early. We may need 
you up there on the platform before the evening 
is over.” 

As the room filled, the confusion bloomed into 
an uproar. But when a clock outside struck seven, 
the noise subsided and Oskison took his place on 
the rostrum. 

“ Fellows,” he began, “ I have been asked to 


THE CLASS ELECTION 


71 


call the meeting to order. The first thing to do, I 
believe, is to effect a permanent organization. 
Consequently, nominations for class president are 
now in order.” 

There was a moment of dead silence. Then, 
before the buzzing could begin anew, Wee Willie 
Winkle was on his feet. 

“ Fellow members of the class,” he began, “ we 
are just starting out in the world, and it is impera- 
tive that our first step be right. For this reason, 
it is highly important that we elect a strong, a 
courageous, and a popular president to lead us 
for the first few months of our history. There are 
doubtless many among us who are worthy of the 
office, but because we are a new class, an untried 
class, we are not in a position to recognize them all. 
But there is one among us who has proved his 
caliber by making it possible for the freshmen to 
occupy the unique prestige of having won the cap 
rush. I nominate Penfield Wayne.” 

Instantly a flood of cheers swept the room. It 
rose again and again, echoing and re-echoing till it 
became a continuous roar of approval. Those 
nearest the boy tried to hoist him on their shoul- 
ders, but he fought them off with laughing resist- 
ance. Oskison rapped on the table with his hand 


72 THE FOURTH DOWN 

until it hurt, but the class would not come to 

order. 

“ Penny Penfield! Penny Penfield!” they 
chanted deliriously. 

Although it seemed the turmoil would never 
quiet, Oskison eventually managed to make him- 
self heard. “ Mr. Penfield Wayne has been nom- 
inated for president. Are there any further nomi- 
nations? ” 

There was no response. 

“ If not,” continued Oskison, “ we must ballot 
on the one name.” 

As he paused, some of the more impatient cried, 
“ Vote! Question! Give us the question! ” 

“ All those in favor — ” 

From the back of the room came a mighty crash. 
Moved by a common impulse, the class turned 
quickly in its seats, as if fearing a sophomore in- 
vasion. In response to the thunderous knocking, 
the door-keepers swung back the portals a crack, 
and then, with a murmur of genuine astonish- 
ment, flung them wide to admit a wet, mud- 
streaked figure. It was Terwilliger. 

Straight to the platform he marched, looking 
neither to right nor left. As he held up a hand, 
the freshmen stilled in sudden apprehension. 


THE CLASS ELECTION 


73 


“ Fellows,” he shouted hoarsely, “ the cardinal 
cap is gone. The sophomores have it. I did 
my best, but they caught me and captured it. 
Now, we must wear green caps, every one of 
us.” 

He paused expectantly. A groan of dismay 
swept through the meeting. 

“ Why didn’t you take care of it? ” demanded a 
voice from the rear. 

“ I did,” yelled Terwilliger angrily. “ But there 
was another freshman who failed us. The sopho- 
mores went to him, and he told them where I was 
hiding it. Told the sophomores! Do you under- 
stand? ” 

A storm of questions poured forth from every 
point in the crowded room. Half the class leaped 
to its feet. 

“ Who was it that told? ” 

“ Who is he? ” 

“ Who? Who? Tell us!” 

“ Yes, I’ll tell you,” said Terwilliger grimly. 
4“ It was Penny Wayne.” 

The storm died out as suddenly as it had arisen. 
By the side of the accused boy, Wee Willie Winkle 
turned to him unbelievingly. 

“ That’s not true, Wayne; is it? ” 


74 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


Penny rose to his feet, and faced the great mass 
of freshmen behind him. 

“ What Terwilliger has said is true,” he ad- 
mitted, intending to explain the whole circum- 
stance, “only — ” He stumbled awkwardly; it 
was difficult to put the argument in words. “ It is 
true,” he began once more, “ only — ” He mois- 
tened his lips, and made a third attempt, to dis- 
cover, without warning, that he had nothing to 
say in his own behalf. He sank back into his seat. 

The tumult broke out afresh. Winkle arose 
and offered to withdraw the nomination, but Oski- 
son ruled against such a procedure. “ It may be 
better,” he pointed out, “ to allow him to discover 
what the class thinks of fellows of his selfish 
stripe.” 

In the end, somebody nominated Oskison him- 
self, and the class was invited to vote upon the 
two. 

“ I find,” announced Terwilliger, who had been 
chosen to conduct the balloting, “ that of the two 
hundred and forty-seven votes cast, two hundred 
and forty-six are for Mr. Oskison and one for Mr. 
Wayne. Mr. Oskison did not vote; Mr. Wayne 
did. The inference is obvious.” 

A gale of laughter swept over the meeting. 


THE CLASS ELECTION 


75 


Penny rose with clenched fists to deny the intima- 
tion, but the class would not listen. Then fol- 
lowed the election of the other officers, through 
which the boy sat motionless, staring straight 
ahead. When it was nearly over, Winkle touched 
his coat sleeve. 

“ Penny,” he said, “ I know you didn’t cast 
that one vote for yourself. It was mine. I couldn’t 
make myself believe what you confessed. I had 
come to count upon you, boy, and to want you 
for a friend, because I thought you were working 
for all of us.” 

Wayne winced as if he had been struck. Of all 
he had endured that night, these words hurt most. 
Later, in his room, he fell into a troubled sleep 
still thinking of them. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE TRICK PLAY 

In the days that followed, Wayne sought con- 
solation in diligent study and in determined foot- 
ball practice. His former freshmen friends took 
pains to avoid him, ignoring him as completely as 
they could. This treatment hurt more than he 
cared to admit, even to himself; but it was as 
nothing compared to the attitude of Dad Lubbock. 

By the end of the first week of football practice, 
the boy was firmly convinced that the coach had 
no intention of trying him out with the varsity 
team. Like the others, he was in league against 
the freshman. Each afternoon Wayne reported 
for play, buoyed with new hope and eager to prove 
his ability at quarter-back for the first eleven; and 
each afternoon Dad Lubbock relegated him to the 
scrubs, who were supposed to serve merely that 
the other team might enjoy actual scrimmages. 
Against them, the coach hurled the varsity, bat- 
tering incessantly upon the line, or circling the 


THE TRICK PLAY 


77 


ends, until the backs moved with the precision and 
the irresistible heartlessness of a machine. This 
he termed drilling the first eleven in offense. 

Afterwards, when the scrubs were given the 
ball, and Wayne was searching his mind for strate- 
gic plays to even the score, Dad Lubbock would 
call, “ Send your right-half between tackle and 
guard, Quarter; ” and the varsity, being duly 
forewarned, would mass its whole strength to meet 
the attack, and would topple them over backward 
for a loss. Generally, it was Eidenfessel who was 
at right-half for the scrubs. Whether there was 
friction between him and Penny, or whether the 
fault was the German boy’s, even Wayne himself 
could not determine. Certain it was, however, 
that the resultant plunge was feeble and shrinking, 
and often necessitated a repetition by order of Dad 
Lubbock, who scowled and criticized freely. This 
incessant line-bucking the coach called building up 
a defense for the varsity. 

But on Tuesday of the second week, when 
Penny’s every ragged nerve was protesting, Dad 
Lubbock unexpectedly called him over where the 
first eleven was awaiting its instructions, and 
said: 

“ Go in at quarter, Wayne, and let’s see what 


78 THE FOURTH DOWN 

you can do. Wc need to run through a few sig- 
nals.” 

The freshman nodded happily, and leaped into 
position. 

“ Line up, fellows! ” he called with shrill insist- 
ence. 

Because it was the first signal that came to 
mind, he began with an end-run. As the center 
snapped the ball to him, the whole line surged for- 
ward, the backs circled suddenly to the right, and 
the left half fairly tore the ball from his hands. 
Bewildered by the speed and precision of the play, 
which were qualities the second eleven had not fully 
mastered, Wayne hesitated for a single moment. 
Behind him the coach voiced his disapproval. 

“ Here! Here! That won’t do at all. Quarter, 
you are supposed to help form the interference, 
and not to stand back and enjoy the play. Get 
into it the instant you pass the ball. Try that 
again.” 

This time the play ran more smoothly, but 
Wayne, in his eagerness to fit into the interfer- 
ence, moved too erratically. Once more the 
coach’s strident complaint rang out. 

“ Quarter, you’re clogging the runner’s path 
now. He’ll trip over you if he isn’t careful. Look 


THE TRICK PLAY 79 

alive! Let’s have the same thing again. Now, 
up and away as if you meant it, varsity! ” 

And so they tried it the third time, and the 
fourth, and, after Dad Lubbock had made clear 
his theory by going in at quarter-back himself, a 
fifth time. Wayne was breathing hard, and not 
wholly pleased with his own playing, although he 
told himself bitterly that the coach was singling 
him out for unwarranted criticism. 

For fifteen long and weary minutes, the team 
tore up and down the field in signal practice. There 
was no pause for rest, no cessation of the quick 
lining-up and the equally quick running off of the 
play, and — what irritated Wayne most of all — 
no lessening of Dad Lubbock’s sharp criticisms. 
Playing on the first eleven, even when it was not 
facing an opponent, called for a mental and a 
physical activity far beyond anything the boy had 
imagined. 

After that, the coach beckoned to the scrubs, 
and the two teams lined up, with the varsity hav- 
ing the ball. Now the task became doubly exact- 
ing; now an error, or even a slight hesitation, 
meant more than it had in signal practice. Before 
there was a chance to recover and begin the play 
anew, the other eleven would be swarming through 


80 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


the line and burying the quarter-back beneath its 
tangle of bodies and arms and legs. 

Knowing this, Wayne faltered at the very out- 
set. Parker, his right half-back, charged straight 
ahead in a line-buck, missed the ball, which the 
freshman was juggling uncertainly, and the scrubs 
hurled them back for a loss of five yards. Two 
minutes later, when the center chugged back the 
pigskin with unusual force, it eluded the boy’s first 
frantic clutch altogether. This time the disaster 
was more serious in its results; for Eidenfessel, of 
the second eleven, snatched it from his very hands 
with a triumphant chuckle, and raced half the 
length of the field for a touchdown. As Wayne 
emerged from the group of players that had tum- 
bled upon him, he heard Dad Lubbock uttering 
bitter sarcasm over the fumble. 

As might have been expected, the quarter-back 
lost his head completely after that, and the coach 
did the kindest thing possible under the circum- 
stances by putting little Jarvis in his place and 
retiring Wayne to the side-lines. But the fresh- 
man, broken-hearted over his lost opportunity, did 
not understand why he had been taken out. He 
lapsed promptly into his former mood of sullen 
martyrdom. 


THE TRICK PLAY 


81 


All this was on Tuesday. Before he reported 
for practice on Wednesday afternoon, Wayne had 
evolved a new method of forcing his way into the 
good graces of Dad Lubbock. For whatever the 
coach might think, the boy was confident that with 
a fair trial he could win the coveted position of 
quarter-back on the varsity. 

This new method was nothing more nor less than 
the completion of a trick play upon which he had 
been toiling for days. Somewhat to Penny’s sur- 
prise, Dad Lubbock not only greeted him with 
every evidence of friendliness, but listened pa- 
tiently while the boy explained the details of the 
plan, which he had elucidated with a diagram 
showing exactly the evolution each player must fol- 
low to carry it through to a successful culmination. 
The coach was frankly interested. 

“ It has undoubted promise, Wayne,” he ad- 
mitted, “ and there’ll be no harm in testing it 
against the scrubs. Yes, I’ll give it a trial at once. 
Let’s see, the quarter-back eventually takes the 
ball, doesn’t he? Well, suppose you show the var- 
sity team how the formation goes by playing quar- 
ter for a while.” 

Wayne nodded smilingly. He had achieved his 
ambition. He had practically compelled Dad Lub- 


82 THE FOURTH DOWN 

bock to shift him from the second to the first 
eleven; and, once the brilliancy of the trick play 
had been demonstrated, the coach could hardly 
overlook him in the future. It was a long step 
toward the desired privilege of playing quarter- 
back regularly. 

The play was numbered 13 in the signals. The 
system in calling them was to add the first two 
numerals for the key to the ensuing formation, 
which permitted of varying them enough to con- 
fuse any opposing team. 

After they had drilled themselves for a time with 
signal practice, the varsity players lined up against 
the unsuspecting scrubs. Following the coach’s 
instructions, Wayne began with a line plunge, 
handling the ball cleanly, and fitting exactly into 
his niche of the interference. Next he sent Parker, 
the right-half, circling around the end for a sub- 
stantial gain, protecting him for yards by fending 
off ambitious tacklers. Once more the two teams 
crouched. 

“ 6-7-1 -5,” called Wayne, his voice breaking a 
little in spite of every effort to keep it clear and 
steady. It was the signal for the trick play. 

The ball thudded into his hands. From the ex- 
treme right, little Kern, the end, came dashing in 


THE TRICK PLAY 


83 


• behind him. The whole scrub line swayed in- 
stinctively in the direction the runner was follow- 
ing. To further the trick, the varsity backs swept 
in ahead of him as if to form a pocket in which he 
might be secure from tacklers. Wayne himself 
stepped sharply back, and then raced in the oppo- 
site direction, forging forward until he was even 
with the line of scrimmage. Here he turned to re- 
ceive the long throw. 

Kern, securely protected by the interference, 
sent the ball hurtling end over end toward him. 
For a moment, in which Wayne’s heart seemed to 
stop beating, it promised to travel straight and 
true into his very arms. But just as he was telling 
himself excitedly that the trick had proved a suc- 
cess, Eidenfessel, well back of the struggling mass, 
thrust up a blocking hand and deflected the course 
of the flying leather. There was a second of inac- 
tivity; then twenty players were in full cry after 
the fumbled ball, like wolves hard upon their prey. 

Little Jarvis, playing quarter-back for the 
scrubs, reached it first, gauged nicely its bound, 
and gathering it in with a whoop of joy raced forty 
yards for a touchdown. 

After the goal line had been crossed, and the 
coach had carried the ball back to the middle of the 


84 


THE FOURTH DOWN 

field for further scrimmaging, Wayne turned a dis- 
appointed face toward him. 

“ It was an accident, Dad,” he cried; “ you saw 
that. Eidenfessel should have been backing his 
line instead of waiting where he was.” 

“ Yes,” agreed the coach, pressing his lips to- 
gether, “ he should.” 

“ And if he had been, the play would have suc- 
ceeded,” explained Penny eagerly. “ Why, it 
would go through nine times out of ten.” 

“ How about the tenth time? ” asked Dad Lub- 
bock quietly. “ We must count upon the occa- 
sional failure, you know. No, we will discard it.” 

Wayne flushed painfully. “ But you haven’t 
given it a fair trial,” he protested. 

“ I don’t agree with you,” said the coach, still 
quietly, but with such a note of finality in his voice 
that the freshman turned away quickly to hide his 
quivering lips. “ If it succeeded, it would appear 
a brilliant play; but every time it fails — and you 
admit yourself that it must inevitably fail now and 
then — it means almost a sure touchdown for the 
opposing team, because it leaves us absolutely no 
protection against their runner. That is quite 
enough to warrant our discarding it.” 

“ But, Dad, you — ” 


THE TRICK PLAY 


85 


The coach turned away abruptly, as if he had 
not heard. None of the players offered a protest; 
none suggested trying the trick again. The fresh- 
man swallowed uncertainly, and blinked rapidly 
to hold back the tears of disappointment that were 
very near the surface. 

“ Line up, varsity,” commanded Dad Lubbock; 
“ line up, scrubs. Varsity’s ball, first down. Jar- 
vis, you take Wayne’s place at quarter. Martin 
will substitute for you on the scrubs. Now, let’s 
see if we can’t put more ginger into these straight 
plays.” 

Apparently quite forgotten by both coach and 
players, Penny Wayne watched dully as the two 
teams faced each other and the monotonous drill 
began anew. After a minute or two, when there 
seemed no further reason for his standing idly on 
the side-lines, he asked Dad Lubbock if he might 
run to the gymnasium now and take his shower 
baths. 

“ Certainly not,” said the coach sharply. Then, 
as he caught a glimpse of the boy’s hurt face, he 
continued kindly, “ We are going to try some de- 
layed and double passes presently, and possibly a 
4 fake ’ kick or two; I want you to get the signals 
and study the formations.” 


86 


THE FOURTH DOWN 

Before he had time to think, Wayne blurted out 
a question that sounded distressingly inane and 
humble after he had spoken. 

“ Then you are going to give me another chance 
at quarter-back sometime? ” he asked. 

Dad Lubbock looked at him quizzically. “ Why, 
certainly,” he smiled. “ If it is at all possible, you 
will go in the first game on Saturday for a few 
minutes.” 

After that, of course, wild horses could not have 
dragged the freshman from the practice. He even 
began to wonder if he had not misjudged the coach 
a little; and he trotted along by his side as the 
man followed the struggling teams up and down 
the field. More than once, indeed, so closely did 
he analyze each move, that he found himself able 
to predict with remarkable accuracy the criticisms 
which Dad Lubbock heaped impartially upon the 
players before him. 

Finally, as if this were not stimulus enough to 
restore his optimistic nature, his very heart sang 
a paean of joy as the scrubs, in possession of the 
ball near the end of the period, were not only fool- 
ish enough to attempt a slight variation of the 
very trick play the varsity had foisted unsuccess- 
fully upon them — his play — - but were also lucky 


THE TRICK PLAY 


87 


enough to carry it through for a thirty-yard gain. 
Everybody on the side-lines laughed uproariously 
over the chagrin of the first eleven. Wayne him- 
self could not forbear asking Dad Lubbock slyly if 
he hadn’t better reconsider his decision to discard 
it, which of course was about the most tactless re- 
mark a freshman candidate could possibly make to 
a football coach. 

Dad Lubbock’s answer was to the squad as a 
whole. 

“ The trick play we have watched,” he told 
them, “ has its merits. On the whole, however, its 
dangers more than offset its possibilities. For this 
reason, it is not to be attempted in any real game, 
and we cannot afford to waste time over it in 
practice. It is to be permanently discarded. You 
all understand? ” 

Every head bobbed obediently, save Wayne’s. 
The freshman dug the toe of his cleated shoe in the 
turf, and nervously clasped and unclasped his 
moist hands. Parker, the captain, who had taken 
a liking to the little freshman, stared at him curi- 
ously. There was an awkward silence, which Dad 
Lubbock seemed not to notice. 

“ That’s all today,” the coach said quietly. 
“ Practice tomorrow at the usual hour. Run in.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE FIRST GAME 

Before it was fairly light on Saturday morning, 
Penny Wayne was out of bed and at the window, 
gazing happily upon the cloudless sky that prom- 
ised a clear day for the first game. As he stood 
there, the sun crept slowly above the rim of the 
horizon and threw its warm rays upon his face. 
The boy laughed happily. 

“ Listen, Mr. Sun,” he said, “ this afternoon I 
am going to play for a while — and I am going to 
prove to Dad Lubbock that I have brains enough 
and brawn enough and courage enough to make 
the team. You’ll see! ” 

As he dressed, he whistled softly and contentedly 
to himself. And all the long forenoon, and until 
it was time to report at the gymnasium, he lounged 
about in his room, as the coach had advised, smi- 
ling a little foolishly and waiting — waiting. For 
with every tick of the clock, Opportunity was 
coming closer. 


THE FIRST GAME 


89 


How the time passed, he could not have told. 
But eventually he found himself at Camp Randall 
with the others of the squad, watching the two 
teams engaged in a preliminary signal practice, 
which presently ended. An official tossed a coin 
high in the air, and Parker won the toss. As he 
squatted down on the side-lines with the other sub- 
stitutes, looking like an Indian in his cardinal 
sweater, which he hung loosely over his back, with 
the' sleeves tied about his neck, the freshman drew 
in a deep breath. 

This first struggle was against Carlton College, 
a small denominational institution in the north of 
the State, which began its football practice a week 
or two before any other school, and which for this 
reason often proved a stumbling-block during the 
earlier part of the season. Parker elected that its 
team should kick off to Wellworth, and the two 
opposing elevens scattered themselves over the 
field in their proper positions. An official raised 
his hand. 

“ Are you ready? ” he asked. 

All at once, Wayne’s heart began to pound furi- 
ously. For a tense moment, the small crowd in 
grandstand and bleachers went silent. Then, as 
clear and distinct as a rifle-shot, came the thud of 


90 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


the kicker’s toe against the ball. The sound was 
the signal for action. The two teams closed in on 
each other, and the game was on. 

Parker caught the ball on the kick-off, and 
charged back ten yards before he was downed. 
As the whistle shrilled the end of the scrimmage, 
Wayne found himself standing up, shaking with 
excitement, and promptly sank back to the ground. 
He was a little ashamed of his emotion, and turned 
to see if his action had been observed. Yes, Dad 
Lubbock, at his side, was staring at him, with a 
little pucker above his nose, just as he did on 
practice days over some play. 

As the teams lined up, Jarvis’ signal rang out 
sharply. 

“ 8-3 -6-4.” 

Eight and three; that was eleven. Jarvis was 
sending Lakers, the full-back, between guard and 
tackle on the right wing of the opposing line. 
Wayne nodded in appreciation of the quarter- 
back’s wisdom. Whether the play resulted in a 
gain or not, a line-rush would serve to instil con- 
fidence in handling the ball cleanly, and pave the 
way for the more dangerous end-runs and cross- 
bucks. Why, Jarvis wasn’t such a poor quarter, 
after all, only — Well, Wayne would have his 


THE FIRST GAME 91 

chance later; then he would show what he could 
do. 

The first play netted two yards. Jarvis tried 
the other side of the line without gain. Then, so 
rapidly that the Carlton team had scarcely time to 
brace, the quarter rattled off another signal, and 
Parker was around the end and twenty yards down 
the field before the enemy had solved the intrica- 
cies of the double-pass. He was downed far to one 
side; here the elevens lined up again. 

“ 3 -4-4-3,” called Jarvis. 

Wayne whirled suddenly to the coach. “ Why, 
that’s a line-plunge, Dad,” he protested. “ That’s 
wrong, isn’t it ? Why doesn’t he call for an end-run 
toward the center of the field? ” 

The coach turned weary eyes upon him. “ Be- 
cause it would be too obvious to Carlton,” he an- 
swered shortly. “ No team ever tries it when it is 
in that position. Use your head, boy; no quarter- 
back who doesn’t reason for himself can suc- 
ceed.” 

Wayne felt suddenly sobered. After he had 
considered the problem a minute, however, he ad- 
mitted that Dad Lubbock was quite right. He 
hoped, down in his heart, that the coach would 
forget his blunder, and he determined to prove 


92 


THE FOUKTH DOWN 


that he could think clearly when Dad gave him the 
opportunity to play. 

Jarvis finished out the first quarter and began 
the second. Neither team could gain consist- 
ently, and time after time, following three futile 
attempts at line-bucking and skirting the ends, the 
ball changed hands by means of long punts that 
carried it out of striking distance of one goal or 
the other. Wellworth had the heavier eleven, but 
this advantage was offset by the week or more of 
extra practice the Carlton players had enjoyed. 
Dad Lubbock’s team played raggedly, giving the 
impression of great strength once it had been 
moulded into a smooth-moving machine, but prov- 
ing erratic and unsteady in the present crisis. 

Now and then the coach substituted players 
from the side-lines for those who had begun the 
game. When Jarvis retired in the middle of the 
second period, Wayne waited anxiously for Dad 
Lubbock to tell him his chance had come. But, to 
his great disappointment, little Vinney was sent 
out to play quarter-back. Wayne was honest 
enough to admit that the youngster ran the team 
intelligently, if not brilliantly; but he was confi- 
dent that he could do as well himself. He began 
to wonder if the coach was treating him fairly. 


THE FIRST GAME 


93 


The half ended without scoring. During the 
ten minutes of rest, Dad Lubbock offered little ad- 
vice to his players, beyond telling them to be more 
alert on defense. 

“ A no-score tie won’t matter much, one way or 
the other,” he said, “ but we must not be beaten.” 

To Wayne this savored of something almost akin 
to treason. Why, of course, they must not be 
beaten; and yet a tie was an outcome nearly as 
tragic. Why didn’t Dad Lubbock implore them to 
go in and play their very hearts out, and take des- 
perate chances, and run the Carlton eleven off its 
feet? He had always understood that a college 
coach spent the time between halves in begging his 
team, with tears in his eyes, to win or to die fight- 
ing. Penny Wayne had much to learn. 

The second half began with Vinney still at quar- 
ter. After five or six minutes, however, Dad called 
him to the side-lines, and put in Martin. Wayne 
moved angrily when he heard the name. Even if 
he were to be the victim of the coach’s scheme of 
petty revenge, the man might have selected some- 
body else. Martin was too light, and too rattle- 
brained, to make a good quarter-back. 

Just as he had expected, the substitute mixed his 
signals on the very first play. At Wayne’s side, 


94 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


the coach squirmed uneasily. A second later, Mar- 
tin erred seriously in judgment in calling for an 
end-run just as it seemed the Wellworth backs had 
discovered a weak place in the opposing line. But 
Dad Lubbock said nothing, and, worse still, did 
nothing. 

Afterward, when Martin was doing better, with 
growing confidence, Wayne began to understand 
why he had not been taken out at once. But with 
this recognition of the fact that the quarter-back’s , 
first errors were due simply to nervousness that was 
fast wearing off, the freshman’s anger toward the 
coach increased rather than decreased. If he had 
stopped to analyze his emotions, he would have 
known that this was due to an increasing fear that 
Martin might be allowed to finish the game and 
thus deprive him of his own opportunity, rather 
than to any logical criticism of Dad Lubbock’s 
wisdom in allowing the other to work out his own 
salvation. But by this time, Wayne was past the 
stage of calm reasoning with himself. He wanted 
to play. Nothing else was of any importance. He 
must play! 

The final quarter began with the two teams still 
struggling in a no-score tie that seemed destined 
to exist to the final whistle. At the end of five 


THE FIRST GAME 


95 


minutes, the ball was in the exact center of the 
field. A little later, it had been carried twenty- 
yards into Well worth territory, but at the end of 
another sixty seconds it was back on Carlton’s 
thirty-yard line. Neither could advance it beyond 
these points. 

And then, when Wayne had settled down in 
moody admission of the power of Dad Lubbock to 
deprive him of his chance to prove his skill out 
there on the white-ribbed field, the coach turned to 
him without warning. 

“ All right, Wayne,” the man said quietly. 
“ You can take Martin’s place now.” 

Before he could say more, the freshman was run- 
ning out to meet the advancing captain, with every 
nerve twitching his cold skin, and his heart almost 
standing still. Parker put a heavy arm around his 
shoulders, and whispered gruffly in his ear. 

“ It’s our ball, Wayne; first down. We’re all 
tired, but we won’t quit. We’re willing enough to 
follow, but we can’t lead any more. We need a 
fresh, commanding mind; you’ve got it. That’s 
all.” 

The freshman quarter-back nodded. Even as 
his chin lowered, his brain cleared rapidly, and his 
topsy-turvy world tilted back to normal. Once 


96 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


more a steadying heart pumped warm blood 
through his chilled body, the lump in his throat 
dissolved into nothingness, and even the queer 
nausea of fear in the pit of his stomach was gone. 
Never had he felt so cool, so clear-headed, so cal- 
culating and strategic. He even laughed a 
little. 

Eidenfessel replaced Okers at left half-back. 
When he was in position, Wayne spat out the sig- 
nal, knelt suddenly to receive the ball from the 
center, and held it till the clutching arms of Lakers 
had clasped it, and the runner was crashing into 
the line. The vortex of surging players sucked 
Wayne into its midst, but even as he went down he 
knew the full-back had failed to gain. 

“ What was the trouble, Lakers?” he asked, 
after he had untangled himself. 

“ Too slow, Penny,” confessed the full-back; 
“ I’m too tired, I guess.” 

The quarter-back said nothing. There was no 
denying the truth of Lakers’ statement. Well, he’d 
give Parker a trial. 

But Parker, too, was downed before he had 
crossed the line of scrimmage. And the captain, 
like Lakers, answered Wayne’s query with an apol- 
ogy for his plodding leg-weariness. “ I’m dog- 


THE FIRST GAME 


97 


tired; I can’t seem to get moving quickly enough,” 
he said simply. 

The quarter-back turned a calculating eye upon 
Eidenfessel. He was fresh, at least. But the Ger- 
man’s attempt was also a flat failure; he put into 
his plunge no life, no determination, no spurring 
joy of playing the game. 

It was the fourth down, with nine yards to gain. 
There was only one logical play, and Wayne called 
for a punt, half-fearful that it might be blocked. 
But as he was surging forward with the linemen 
when the ball was lifted from the ground by the 
center, his ears caught the slight sound as it 
slapped into Parker’s hands and the loud thump 
as the kicker sent it soaring, screwing its way 
through the air, high and far. 

Ahead of him, as he ran, he saw one of the Carl- 
ton players set himself for the catch, with a quickly 
formed group gathering about him to act as inter- 
ference. Even as the yellow ball dropped into the 
arms of the player, the freshman broke through 
and tackled fiercely, catching his opponent just 
above the knees and bringing him to earth before 
he had taken a forward step. 

Up in the stands, they cheered frantically. A 
hoarse megaphone voice asked what was the mat- 


98 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


ter with Wayne, and the crowd boomed back that 
he was all right! The sound warmed the cockles 
of the boy’s heart as nothing else could have done. 

As they lined up on defense, Parker asked the 
time. The official snapped open his watch. 

“ Five minutes to play!” he announced. 

The captain motioned for Wayne to drop back 
toward their goal. “ You’re too light to be of any 
great help here on the line, and we can’t take 
chances. Now, fellows, hold them! ” 

The freshman retreated to the center of the 
field. In front of him, the two teams crouched ex- 
pectantly. Even from where he stood, Wayne 
could hear the high treble of the Carlton quarter as 
he called his signal, and could follow the course of 
the ball in the twisting, gyrating, bewildering play 
that resulted. It was a variation of the double- 
pass. But up there in the scrimmage zone, none 
of his own team seemed to divine the formation. 
They surged to the left, toward the point at which 
the runner had started. Over at the right a tackle 
and a back neatly boxed little Kern, the Wellworth 
end. There was a quick passing of the ball, a 
nimble reversal of attack — and a fleet player was 
through the demoralized left wing of the line, run- 
ning clear in a free field. 



The ball, wrenched loose from his opponent, bounded 
into his very arms. Page 99. 





THE FIRST GAME 


99 


Wayne sprinted forward to meet him. The 
stands went silent again, stunned by the success of 
the play, and the freshman could hear his own 
choking breaths. If he missed the tackle, it meant 
a victory for the visitors. 

As the runner neared him, he dodged suddenly, 
seeking to elude the lithe quarter-back. But 
Wayne was not to be denied. He tackled per- 
fectly, felt his fingers slipping, clawed frantically 
for a hold, and after a moment of awful suspense 
realized that the runner was breaking away. Then, 
in a very ecstasy of determination, his right hand 
gripped a flap of loose canvas. He jerked with 
every ounce of power in his body. 

The runner lost his balance and stopped — 
stopped so unexpectedly that Wayne’s clinging 
fingers tore loose, and he dived head-first to the 
ground in front of the Carlton player. As he fell, 
he twisted to one side, however, and turned a com- 
plete somersault, landing on his feet, with his face 
toward the runner. And as he steadied himself for 
a second tackle, the ball, wrenched loose from his 
opponent by his first jerk, bounded into his very 
arms. 

They downed him before he was fairly started, 
of course; but as he fell, with the precious ball held 


100 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


fast, he heard the mad cheering of the Wellworth 
rooters in the stands, with his own name echoed 
again and again. He was fast becoming a hero. 
He was proving his right to a regular place on the 
varsity team. Now, if he could only prove his 
ability on offense! 

The two teams lined up once more. It was Well- 
worth’s ball on its own forty-yard line. To score, 
they must cover more than half of the field, and 
Wayne looked hopelessly over the vast distance 
with shaking head. He knew they could never do 
it in the minute or two that remained unless — 

He knelt close behind the center, first assuring 
himself that his back-field was in position. Then 
he lifted his head, as if he were daring them to 
criticize, and snapped out: 

“ 7-6-9-14.” It was the call for the trick play 
they had discarded. 

“ Signal! ” shouted Lakers, with a combination 
of doubt and admiration in his voice. 

Wayne repeated it slowly. 

“Signal!” This time it was Parker’s unbe- 
lieving challenge. 

The freshman quarter-back turned toward them, 
and reiterated the numbers, slowly, distinctly, ag- 
gressively. 


THE FIRST GAME 


101 


“ 7 - 6 - 9 - 14 .” 

There was no mistaking it now. He held out 
his hands for the ball, and caught it deftly. From 
the right end of the line, little Kern circled back 
of him. Wayne made the pass to the runner with 
unerring certainty, and then dropped back and 
moved inconspicuously in the opposite direction. 
There was a tense second of apparent confusion, 
and then, hurtling straight through the struggling 
mass of players, came the yellow ball. Wayne 
held his breath in fear of some blocking arm or 
hand, but it sailed on without hindrance of any 
kind, and plumped true and hard against his 
breast. 

He tucked it firmly into the pit of his arm, and 
closed a hand over its other pointed end, exulting 
as his biceps pressed firmly against its rough sur- 
face. Then he was away for the looming white 
goal-posts at the far end of the field, with only a 
single tackier between victory and himself, and 
with Parker already through the line, to act as 
interference. 

It was so ridiculously easy that he experienced 
a sense of disappointment. As he neared the lone 
guardian near the goal, he slowed till Parker 
dropped in ahead and shouldered the tackier aside. 


102 THE FOURTH DOWN 

After that, of course, there was nothing to do but 
carry the ball behind the last white line and touch 
it to the ground between the two goal-posts. In- 
toxicated by the roaring appreciation of his sixty- 
yard run, he sat down upon the ball until the offi- 
cials carried it out for the attempt at goal after the 
touchdown. 

A minute later the game was over. Wellworth 
had won. Wayne had made the only touchdown 
and had been largely instrumental in preventing 
Carlton from scoring a few seconds before. No 
wonder they were cheering him, and tagging his 
name on the varsity yell as an appreciative snapper. 
He grinned delightedly as a megaphone begged: 

“ Now, fellows, three times three for the fresh- 
man, Penny Penfield — and make them loud! 
Now, all together, one, two, three! ” And the very 
stands shook with the ensuing roar. 

They carried him from the field on their shoul- 
ders, and they told him over and over what a won- 
derful player he was. He tried to belittle their 
praise, and to pretend that he had done no more 
than the others; but down in his heart, for all that, 
he was very proud of himself. It was this moment 
for which he had borne the rebuffs and the aches 
and pains of the practice days. 


THE FIRST GAME 


103 


There was just one dissenting voice. Dad Lub- 
bock looked at him very soberly, and shook his 
head doubtfully. 

“ I am sorry, Wayne,” he said, in his usual quiet 
way that might mean much or little, “ that you 
disobeyed my instructions in trying that trick 
play.” 

But the freshman could not understand that this 
meant adverse criticism or even a reprimand. He 
grinned back at the coach, and propounded the 
unanswerable question: 

“ Well, it was the play that won the game for 
us, wasn’t it? ” 


CHAPTER IX 


THE BONFIRE CELEBRATION 

It was not until he sat down at Mrs. Somer’s 
dining table that night that Penfield Wayne realized 
how tired he was. Since the day after the class 
election, he had been taking his meals in a little 
house remote from the campus, with two seniors 
and a young instructor as table-mates. The 
board at Mrs. Pillsbury’s, where he still roomed, 
was much better; but the boy could not eat there 
without coming in contact with the freshmen who 
had formerly been his friends. 

To-night he was surprisingly hungry, however, 
and it took him long to finish his meal. After he 
was done, he wandered aimlessly out upon the 
porch, where the two seniors and the instructor 
were sitting. It was very inviting there, and for a 
time he talked with them about subjects in which 
he was not particularly interested. But he seemed 
choked with a loneliness that all the outdoors in the 
world could not dispel. He wanted friends; friends 


THE BONFIRE CELEBRATION 105 

of his own age, friends of his own class. No, more 
than that, he wanted particularly the friendship of 
big Moogers and serious Eidenfessel and talkative 
Terwilliger and great-hearted Winkle. 

He lifted his head suddenly at the sound of a 
muffled boom. “Hello, what’s that?” he asked 
wonderingly. 

Dr. Lightner, the instructor, smiled. “ Don’t 
you know? Some enterprising youth is firing off 
the Civil War cannon near Main Hall. It is always 
done when the football team wins. They put a 
giant fire-cracker in the muzzle and touch it off.” 

A second explosion vibrated the air. The in- 
structor stood up, and his eyes sparkled. He was 
a very young instructor. 

“ If I were in your place, Wayne,” he said, “ I 
should go down to the lower campus. After the 
first victory of the season, the freshmen are sup- 
posed to celebrate with a bonfire.” 

Penny stared uncertainly back into the hall- 
way, where he could see the stairs that led to his 
room. 

“ Are all the freshmen expected to help? ” 

“ It is considered a privilege,” explained the in- 
structor, thinking of his own student days. “ Of 
course, as you are on the team, the other freshmen 


106 THE FOURTH DOWN 

will count upon your presence. It will prove capi- 
tal sport, Wayne.” 

Penny reached for his hat. “ Thank you,” he 
said. “ I am going.” 

Before he had covered the first block, he found 
himself only one of a small army that was issuing 
from boarding-houses and clubs on both sides of 
the street. All were bound for the lower campus, 
where the celebration was to be held. Occasion- 
ally, an upper-classman called the boy by name, 
but for the most part he seemed quite isolated from 
the college world. 

In the second block, however, somebody over- 
hauled him from behind, and fell into step with 
him. It was Wee Willie Winkle, with whom he 
had not talked since the night of the class election. 

“ How are you, Penfield? ” greeted Winkle. “ I 
hear we freshmen are about to build a bonfire. 
That will be good fun, won’t it? ” 

“ I don’t know,” confessed Wayne hesitatingly. 

Wee Willie stole a glance at his dejected class- 
mate. The sight of the boy’s unhappy expression 
made his conscience twinge sharply. 

“ Why, of course, it will be good fun, Way — 
Penny! You just hang fast to my stout coat-tails, 
and I’ll pull you through.” 


THE BONFIRE CELEBRATION 107 

A gentle warmth began somewhere under Pen- 
ny’s vest, and spread through his whole body. 
The wrinkles on his forehead smoothed out. The 
buoyancy of his stride carried him along on 
thin air. He turned an embarrassed face to 
Winkle. 

“ I — I do want to — to help the class this 
time,” he said. The confession cost him a great 
effort, but he felt more than repaid when the other 
clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

“ Why, of course,” agreed the country boy. 
“ You have been a little thoughtless, and perhaps 
a little selfish; but I know you’re built of the right 
stuff.” 

Already a great crowd had gathered along the 
sides of the lower campus. Near the middle, the 
freshmen were collecting in a ragged group. At 
the end toward the Historical Library, very noisy 
and insistent that the bonfire should be lighted at 
once, was a solid wall of sophomores. Among them 
all wriggled small boys, apparently only a year or 
two out of baby dresses. As Winkle and Wayne 
pushed their way through the crowd, the second- 
year class began to chant: 

“Bon-fire! Bon-fire! 

We want the bon-fi-ire ! ” 


108 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


By this time, Oskisort, the freshman president, 
had been boosted shoulder-high by Moogers and 
Eidenfessel, and was addressing his class. 

“ Fellows, it is customary for the entering class 
to demonstrate its loyalty to Wellworth by cele- 
brating the first victory of the football season with 
a big fire on the campus. Now, because we are 
the best class that ever came to the old school, we 
are going to build a bonfire that will make every 
preceding conflagration look like a one-candle- 
power electric light after the current stops. But it 
takes wood. We must all get wood. Now, the 
best thing — ” 

How he had intended to end the speech, they 
never knew. At this point, a blue-coated figure 
pushed its way to his side, and Moogers, suddenly 
startled at the apparition, allowed Oskison to drop 
ignominiously to the ground. 

“ It’s a policeman! ” exclaimed Winkle. “ He’s 
going to stop the whole celebration.” 

But the officer had no such intention in mind. 
In fact, he was mild and apologetic. 

“ Boys,” he said, “ I just want to give you a 
friendly warning. Every year after this fire, we 
have complaints from residents near here, who 
claim that their sidewalks and outbuildings have 


THE BONFIRE CELEBRATION 109 

been taken for fire-wood. This time the mayor 
has sent me down to protect property, and I am 
going to do it. If I find that you are burning any- 
thing that does not belong to you, I must take 
you in charge. That’s all!” 

As quietly as he had come, the policeman slipped 
away, leaving behind him a storm of protests. 
Terwilliger’s voice rose loudest of all. 

“ It’s an outrage,” he shouted belligerently. 
“ We will do just as we please. It’s some kind of a 
trick to belittle our class.” 

Penny smiled. It was good to hear Terwilliger 
talk once more, and to discover him suspicious and 
personally offended, just as he always pretended 
to be. Wayne opened his mouth to offer a sugges- 
tion to Winkle, and then shut it again. Probably 
the class would not care to welcome any plan of 
his. But the idea was too good to let slip. 

“ Look, Wee Willie,” he said, pointing to a build- 
ing that stood alone in the middle of a big lot near 
the campus; “ do you see that old barn that is 
tumbled-down and weather-beaten? It’s an eye- 
sore to those residences on either side. Now, sup- 
pose every man in the crowd contributed a dime 
toward its purchase: couldn’t we buy it for our 
bonfire? ” 


no 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


The big, red-haired freshman slapped his leg. 
“ Just the thing, Penny! ” he shouted. “ Oh, 
Oskison, ask the fellows what they think about 
this plan.” 

Once more the president was lifted to a pair of 
strong shoulders, and the idea was explained to 
the class. Instantly there was a roar of approval, 
with only Terwilliger objecting. 

“ I’ll appoint Mr. Winkle to collect the money,” 
concluded Oskison, before he slipped to the ground. 

“ And as long as it was your suggestion,” smiled 
Wee Willie to Penny, “ I’ll appoint you as my 
assistant.” 

Wayne wanted to refuse. It was upon the tip of 
his tongue, indeed, to decline the offer; but a 
second’s study showed him the cowardice of such 
action on his part. Accordingly, green cap in 
hand, he went from one member of the class to 
another, soliciting the dimes. It gratified him to 
observe that many of the fellows who had been 
bitterly against him ever since the night of the 
election now appeared to be making friendly over- 
tures again. Evidently his success as a football 
player had redeemed, in a measure, the unfortunate 
mistake he had made at the beginning of the year. 

“ It totals $24.90,” said Oskison, as he com- 


THE BONFIRE CELEBRATION 111 


pleted the count. “ I will put in another dime, 
and make it an even $25.00. Now, unless there 
is an objection, I wish to appoint the same com- 
mittee that collected the money to go and buy the 
building. We will stay here on the campus while 
you find out if the owner is willing to sell. If he 
is, call to us, and we will rush over and demolish 
it before his eyes in less than nothing flat.” 

Penny realized that the honor of appearing upon 
this committee was hardly his by right, but when 
he objected to Winkle the latter refused to 
listen. 

“ You come along with me, Penny Penfield,” he 
commanded. “ It was your idea. Just forget 
about that cap matter; lots of us do the wrong 
thing before we learn better.” 

The twilight had become night. Behind them, 
Penny gazed upon the dark mass of moving fresh- 
men in the middle of the campus. To the left, the 
Historical Library twinkled lights at a half-hun- 
dred windows. Ahead, the old barn leaned totter- 
ingly upon uncertain rafters, apparently ready 
and even eager to fall apart and feed the coming 
bonfire. 

“ Don’t look at it too hard,” cautioned Wee 
Willie, “ or it will collapse under the strain. Won- 


112 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


der where old Jim Brown is. He owns the hand- 
some structure, and somebody told me he lived 
next-door.” 

“ Stop right where you are! ” 

At the command, the committee of two stepped 
back suddenly. A blinding flash of light played 
full upon them. At first, Penny imagined that an 
automobile had swung into the path ahead, but 
he discovered presently that the obstruction was 
only a man, carrying in his hand an old-fashioned 
bicycle lamp. 

“ Who are you?” The question was flung in 
their very faces. “ Don’t you know you are tres- 
passing? You get off my property.” 

Winkle found his tongue first. “ Is this Mr. 
Brown ? ” he inquired politely. 

Obviously the owner of the gruff voice did not 
care to be pacified. “ Yes, I’m Brown,” he snarled, 
“ old Jim Brown. You are a couple of university 
students come to steal my barn for your bonfire, I 
suppose. Well, you aren’t the first ones who have 
tried it. Now, you get off — ” 

But Wee Willie was not to be discouraged thus 
easily. “ One minute, Mr. Brown. We do want 
your barn, but we have no intention of stealing it. 
It is of no value to you, and you would have to pay 


THE BONFIRE CELEBRATION 113 

to have it carted away. Now, we are ready to tear 
it down and use the wood for our bonfire, and give 
you twenty-five dollars into the bargain.” 

The man was silent. As the light of the lantern 
revealed his face, Penny could see that it was work- 
ing strangely. 

“ Twenty-five dollars,” repeated Winkle, the 
practical. 

“ Boys ” — the voice was less harsh this time 
— “ boys, you are the first two who ever came here 
and treated me fairly. I’ve hated you college 
chaps because you haven’t considered my feelings 
in the past. But now — well, I don’t mind telling 
you that the barn is of no value to me; only this 
day the board of health condemned it. As far as 
I am concerned — ” He broke off abruptly, and 
stopped to listen. The face wrinkled into a scowl; 
the voice dropped back into its surly snarl. 
“ What’s that? Who’s singing that? ” 

From the wall of sophomores back on the cam- 
pus came the words, to the tune of “ John Brown’s 
Body:” 

“ Jim Brown doesn’t like the Universitee; 

Jim Brown doesn’t like the Universitee; 

Jim Brown doesn’t like the Universitee — 

And we don’t like Jim Brown! ” 


114 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


The old man stepped forward toward the two 
freshmen, shaking his fist. “ There! ” he cried, his 
voice hoarse with anger. “ That’s the way you 
boys treat me. Now I won’t sell the barn for fifty 
dollars. You get off my property.” 

Wayne and Winkle hesitated, at a loss as to their 
next move. 

“ Did you hear me? ” shrieked the man. “ Well, 
I’ll make you go. I have a shot-gun in that barn, 
and I’m going after it. If you are here when I get 
back, I’ll send a load of rock-salt into your 
legs.” 

With an alacrity hardly to be expected in one of 
his age, the owner of the barn turned his back upon 
them and darted into the shack, slamming and 
latching the door behind him. 

Wee Willie faced his class-mate. “ Well — ” he 
began. 

From the barn came a sudden report. Involun- 
tarily, the two freshmen turned to run. 

“ He’s shooting,” said Winkle. 

Penny stole a glance over his shoulder. Then 
he grasped the other’s shoulder. “ Look! ” he 
cried, pointing to the barn. 

Winkle stared uncertainly until he caught a 
glimpse of red. “ The bicycle lantern must have 


THE BONFIRE CELEBRATION 115 


exploded,” he shouted. “ But why doesn’t old 
Brown come out? What’s the matter? Do you 
suppose — ” 

He did not finish the sentence. They 'both 
wheeled and raced back to the barn. Through a 
window, the telltale flare of flames within was 
plainly visible. Without a word, Winkle boosted 
Penny till the boy could peer between the boards 
that had been nailed across the high opening. 

“ What can you see? ” 

“ Smoke! Smoke and fire. The hay is on fire, 
I think.” 

With both hand and shoulder, Wayne attempted 
to push in the bars across the window, but they re- 
sisted stubbornly. As he worked, little ribbons 
of flame within wavered higher and higher in the 
smoke. He dropped to the ground. 

“ Come on,” he called to Winkle; “ we must get 
him out. We can break down the door.” 

As they neared it, Wee Willie hesitated for a 
moment, and then threw his shoulder against the 
boards. They shivered, but the strip across the 
jamb held it fast. 

“ Once more,” encouraged Penny, “ and to- 
gether! ” 

They charged at the door full-tilt. This time 


116 THE FOURTH DOWN 

the whole side of the barn wavered. The door 
splintered, but held. 

“ Again !” gasped Wayne. “When I say the 
word, we’ll hit it together, near the center. Are 
you ready? Go! ” 

Shoulder and shoulder, they crashed against the 
wooden barrier like bulls. For an instant, it re- 
sisted, and then shivered and splintered into a 
dozen pieces, leaving a great, gaping hole, from 
which a cloud of smoke rushed forth. The shock 
had tossed Winkle to one side. Wayne fell to his 
hands and knees at the very threshold. 

Time was precious. Filling his lungs with fresh 
air, he plunged into the building. The smoke 
stung his eyes and choked him. The flames licked 
toward him. But he did not hesitate. Crawling 
along the floor, where the air was better, he groped 
for the man’s body. 

The task seemed hopeless. His lungs were 
bursting. He grew bewildered as he lost his sense 
of direction. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, only 
to close them immediately as the pungent smoke 
burned the lids. He felt blindly to the right. The 
warmth of a little colony of flames sent back his 
hand sharply. He felt again. This time his fin- 
gers closed on the cold muzzle of the gun, and he 


THE BONFIRE CELEBRATION 117 

followed its length to the stock. But it lay de- 
serted, with no body near it. 

What happened next, he never knew. Probably 
it was a falling timber that struck his head. In 
any event, the whole scene of smoke and flame van- 
ished as suddenly as a picture wiped from a slate. 

When he opened his eyes again, with disconnected 
thoughts clogging his brain, it was still night. 
Over to the left, above the heads of the circle of 
fellows about him, a great fire lighted the whole 
sky. Wee Willie Winkle, who had rescued him, 
was bathing his face in cold water. By his side 
stood Jim Brown, unhurt and without even a 
burned spot on his clothes. As Wayne looked at 
him wonderingly, the man spoke. 

“ Son, it was my fault. I acted like a madman. 
You see, I wasn’t in the fire at all, because as soon 
as the lantern exploded I skipped out the back 
way to telephone for the fire department.” He 
paused, twiddling nervously with some shapeless 
mass in his hands and wiping the perspiration from 
his forehead. “ I’ve changed my mind about you 
college boys. If you think enough of old Jim 
Brown to risk your neck trying to get him out of 
a burning building after the way he’d just treated 
you, I — I — Well, I’m going to change my opin- 


118 THE FOURTH DOWN 

ion about the university. Here’s something I 
took away from some of you boys who were prowl- 
ing about a couple of weeks ago. I suppose by 
rights it doesn’t belong to me. Do you want it, 
son?” 

Penny reached up a wavering hand. Whatever 
it might be, he could not offend the man by refusing 
to accept it. But as his fingers sensed the texture 
of the object, and as the reflection from the sky 
revealed its color, he sat up with a jerk. It was the 
cardinal cap! 

The others about him had also recognized it by 
this time, and there was an ominous movement 
on the part of the sophomores. But while they 
still hesitated, not knowing what to do, Arnie 
Borglum, the class president, held up a warning 
hand. 

“ Not tonight, fellows,” he declared. “ Call it 
a suspension of hostilities until tomorrow. The 
freshman’s earned the right to restore it to his 
class.” 


CHAPTER X 

THE COACH’S DECREE 

“ Mister Wayne! Oh, Mister Wayne! ” 

Startled, Penny sat up in bed, stretching his 
arms full length as if to throw from him the last 
wisps of sleep. 

“ Mister Wayne! ” This time the voice was 
accompanied by three smart raps on the door. 

“Yes, Mrs. Pillsbury?” 

“ I didn’t want to disturb you, sir, but last night 
a man named Lubbock called to see you while you 
were out, and left a note that I promised to 
give you myself. Shall I shove it under the 
door? ” 

“ If you please, Mrs. Pillsbury,” Penny laughed. 
For a brief moment, he had experienced a curious 
foreboding that something was amiss. “ I suppose 
it is about the new signals. Dad is mighty particu- 
lar about such things.” 

Slipping his feet into a convenient pair of 


120 THE FOURTH DOWN 

“ scuffs,’’ he walked over to the door and picked 
up the long, white envelope. It was not the Ath- 
letic Association stationery; evidently, the coach 
had some private message to communicate. Per- 
haps, even, it might be a word or two of commen- 
dation for the quarter-back’s playing in yester- 
day’s game. 

Penny tore open the envelope. Before he had 
read three lines of the note, his arm dropped limply 
to his side. With a great effort, he raised the paper 
and forced his way through the message to the 
last word. 

“My dear Wayne: — This is to inform you 
officially that you are barred from the football 
team for the remainder of the season. I am at- 
tempting to develop, not eleven spectacular play- 
ers, but a machine of eleven men working as a unit. 
By your flagrant refusal to obey my orders, you 
have demonstrated very clearly that you are a 
disturbing factor in my scheme. You must under- 
stand that a football team is not organized for the 
purpose of glorifying or making famous the individ- 
uals who compose it, but that it represents, in its 
harmonious whole, the entire student body. Any 
player who is not willing to serve the best inter- 
ests of that body is better somewhere else. 

“ It is not pleasant to reach this decision in your 


121 


THE COACH’S DECREE 

case, but I am convinced that in doing so I am 
acting for the best interests, not only of you and 
myself, but also of Wellworth. 

“ Very truly yours, 

“ Macklin R. Lubbock.” 

The note fluttered to the floor from his trem- 
bling fingers. In the mirror over the bureau, he 
saw his face reflected, white and drawn. The lips 
were moving, but no sound broke the deathly si- 
lence of the room. 

He threw himself on the bed. It wasn’t fair ! He 
had been doing his best, he had saved the game, 
and — it wasn’t fair! No, it wasn’t fair! 

The long day dragged to its weary end. When 
Wallie Moogers puffed up the stairs to his room 
with the morning papers, which described with 
laudatory superlatives the sensational run that 
had won the game for Wellworth, Penny thrust 
them from him, pleading a head-ache. In the 
afternoon, he took a solitary walk out along the 
Lake Road, and did not return until well after 
dark. 

But the secret was not one that could be kept. 
On Monday afternoon, Terwilliger broke down the 
barrier of silence in characteristic Terwilliger fash- 


ion. 


122 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


Thump! Thump! Thump! “ Open the door, 
Penny; I want to come in.” 

“ Please, Twig! I am studying my chemistry.” 

“ Nonsense! Why, it’s time for you to turn out 
for practice. I want to walk over to the gymna- 
sium with you, just to show folks that I know a 
regular live football player.” 

Penny swallowed hard. “ I am not going over 
to the gymnasium today, Twig.” In the pause 
that followed, he fancied he could hear Terwilli- 
ger’s heart beating. 

“ Not going over to — You mean to say you are 
not reporting for practice? What’s the matter? 
Open the door, Penny; let me in.” 

Wayne turned the key. Under the fusillade of 
Terwilliger’s pointed questions, he confessed that 
he was barred from the team, and extended the 
note as proof. Terwilliger read it with angry 
haste. 

“ Why, he can’t do it! ” he shouted, crumpling 
the sheet of paper and throwing it to the floor. 
“ He can’t do it.” The boy marched back and 
forth across Penny’s room. “ You’re the best 
player on the whole team. I suppose he’s down 
on freshmen; with you off, there won’t be a single 
one in the line-up. He — why, he’s the one who is 


THE COACH’S DECREE 123 

throwing away the best interests of the student 
body. He must let you play! ” 

Penny shook his head. “ No, he can do as he 
likes about that. He is the coach. In his depart- 
ment, he has just as much authority as a general 
in the regular army has in his. I am barred for 
the season, and I can’t play. That ends it.” 

Terwilliger paused dramatically. “ No, sir, 
Penny Penfield,” he blazed, “ that doesn’t end it. 
The general isn’t running the army for himself; 
he is running it for the people. And this man Lub- 
bock will find out mighty quick that he is running 
the football team for the students at old Well- 
worth. You mark my words, he’ll find out! ” 
Thanks to Terwilliger, the news spread like wild- 
fire. By night everybody in the college world 
knew the story, and, whether it was due to Ter- 
williger’s eloquence and vehemence or to an anal- 
ysis of the facts in the case, the student sentiment 
was hostile to Dad Lubbock. When the freshman 
class met in the auditorium of the Engineering 
Building that evening, and Penny formally re- 
stored the cardinal cap, he was cheered as martyr 
never was before, and carried about on the shoul- 
ders of his stalwart mates until he began to think 
of himself as a conquering hero. 


124 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


Nor was this conception in any way lessened by 
what occurred during the week. On Tuesday, 
when he entered the chemistry lecture room a little 
late, the class pounded their chair-arms in salvoes 
of applause. On Wednesday morning, the city 
paper devoted a whole column to a review of the 
disbarment, under head-lines that prejudiced the 
reader in Wayne’s behalf: “ COACH DROPS 
BIGGEST FIND OF SEASON — BAD FEEL- 
ING CAUSES DAD LUBBOCK TO SUSPEND 
SENSATIONAL QUARTER-BACK.” Not only 
the freshmen hung upon Penny’s football opinions, 
but the sophomores, the juniors and even the 
seniors. There was no doubting the public senti- 
ment. 

The total absence of a crowd at the station on 
the following Saturday morning to see the team 
leave for its game with Weslex University, was 
not due altogether to this cause, however, but in 
part to the contempt in which Weslex’s eleven 
was held. 

“ They play a good game of checkers,” Lakers 
had explained, “ and I believe they won the inter- 
collegiate chess championship one year; but no- 
body ever saw them play real football.” 

As a result, no celebration of the anticipated 


125 


THE COACH’S DECREE 

victory was planned, and the band of loyal enthu- 
siasts that waited patiently for telegraphic news 
of the outcome was pitifully small. Penny himself 
would have liked to wait for the returns with the 
crowd that filled Danford’s Drug Store, but an 
approaching examination in mathematics claimed 
his attention. It happened, therefore, that he 
knew nothing of the score until Terwilliger burst 
into his room, all excitement over the news he bore. 

“ Lost!” he shouted. “ We lost! ” 

Penny tossed the algebra to one side. “ You 
mean Weslex lost,” he corrected. Down deep in 
his heart, he smothered a quick hope that Well- 
worth had met defeat. 

“ No, I don’t,” declared Terwilliger. “ Well, 
of course, we didn’t exactly lose, but Weslex held 
us to a tie score, and that amounts to the same 
thing. Think of it, Penny — 13 to 13; that’s 
what they did to us! It’s awful! It’s a disgrace 
not to snow Weslex under! We can never hold up 
our heads again. And it was all Dad Lubbock’s 
fault. If you had been playing quarter-back, we 
would have won easily.” 

And, strangely enough, this was the opinion the 
team itself brought back. Between classes the 
following morning, Lakers met Penny and Ter- 


126 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


williger on the upper campus. The speedy full- 
back shook a discouraged head. 

“ Yes, it was pretty bad,” he admitted. “ I 
want to take back every word I said about Weslex. 
They do play football there now. But that wasn’t 
why we were beaten.” 

“ Hardly,” snapped Terwilliger, laughing nas- 
tily. 

“ We were beaten,” continued Lakers, “ be- 
cause we lacked the right kind of a quarter-back. 
I am not saying a word against little Jarvis — he’s 
plucky and he will develop fast, — but he wasn’t 
the man for the place.” 

Penny flushed unconsciously. “ What was the 
trouble? ” he asked. 

“ We needed you,” said Lakers, looking him 
squarely in the eyes. “ I am not talking to make 
what’s happened seem easier to bear; I am simply 
telling you the truth. We needed you. We were 
strong and willing and clever right up to the last, 
but we were restricted to routine plays. We 
needed a quarter who could get the snap and dash 
and vim out of us, and Jarvis couldn’t. That’s 
the whole explanation.” 

At Mrs. Pillsbury’s dining tables that noon, the 
discussion grew vigorous in the extreme. Moogers 


THE COACH’S DECREE 


127 


and Eidenfessel had persuaded Penny to change 
from his other boarding-house several days before, 
and he was back now; back and sitting at the head 
of the main table. Those who in the first instance 
had taken his dismissal from the team rather com- 
placently now became almost apoplectic in their 
excitement. 

Herrick, the post-graduate, who had not pre- 
viously mentioned football, summed up the matter 
neatly. “ If we had not been able to beat Weslex 
under any circumstances,” he said, “ I shouldn’t 
care. But if Dad Lubbock had let Wayne play, 
we could. Lubbock is jealous, and doesn’t want a 
freshman on his team. That is what I said eight 
years ago when I was a freshman trying for the 
team, and that is what I say again now.” 

An hour later, when Penny escaped from this 
group of out-spoken admirers, he carried with him 
a very definite notion of his own importance. As 
he tramped along the Lake Road to the Sand Pit, 
and then across country toward the Middleton 
highway, he reviewed the whole distressing affair 
as honestly as he could. His verdict was what it 
had always been. Dad Lubbock’s barring him 
from the team was cruel, unjust, tyrannic. He — 

“Oh, Penny Penfield!” 


128 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


It was Wee Willie Winkle, smiling hugely, the 
perspiration wetting his face in streams as he hur- 
ried after the active quarter-back. “ I saw you 
ahead, and wanted to talk over this football 
squabble with you.” 

“ I don’t care to say anything about it,” Penny 
told him honestly. 

“ Do you know there is a movement against 
Dad Lubbock?” 

“ No.” 

“ Well, there is. Everybody is talking it. 
You’re the cause, Penny, and it only needs some 
trouble-maker like the hot-headed Terwilliger to 
set it blazing.” 

“ Well?” 

Wee Willie pounded his forefinger on an imagi- 
nary table. “ You can stop it, if you like.” 

“ Why should I? ” flared Penny. “ Dad Lub- 
bock didn’t treat me fairly. Suppose there is a 
movement to keep the Athletic Association from 
hiring him another year? I hope there is. It will 
be the best thing that ever happened to Well- 
worth.” 

Winkle stared at him aghast. “ But you are 
responsible for it,” he began; and then argued 
heatedly while they crossed the Middleton road 


THE COACH’S DECREE 


129 


and by a long detour reached the city again by 
way of Washington Avenue. But Penny only 
shut his lips tightly, and refused to answer. He 
was wholly unconvinced. It wasn’t fair! No, it 
wasn’t fair to him! 

After Wee Willie had left him, Penny realized 
suddenly that if he were to reach Mrs. Pillsbury’s 
dining-room before the last of the cold supper van- 
ished he must hurry. As he quickened his pace, he 
saw ahead of him a familiar figure. It was Dad 
Lubbock. 

A sudden impulse to thresh it out with the 
coach himself came over him. Perhaps, after all, 
there were two sides to the question. He arranged 
the words which were to begin his little speech, 
rapidly sifting and choosing them as the other ap- 
proached. 

Dad Lubbock was staring steadfastly across the 
lower campus. The two came nearer together, 
until barely twenty-five feet separated them; then 
twenty; then — 

The coach turned abruptly to the right, crossing 
the road to the opposite sidewalk. 

The color fled from Penny’s cheeks, leaving them 
sallow and ghastly. Dad Lubbock had refused to 
meet him! He had deliberately crossed the street 


130 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


to avoid speaking. Vainly, his common sense told 
him that the dusk made it difficult to distinguish 
passersby, that a man thinking hard of other mat- 
ters might do all Dad Lubbock had done without 
intentional rudeness or insult. The arguments 
carried no weight. It was to be a fight, then! 
Well and good! 

As Penny entered the front door of Mrs. Pills- 
bury’s house, a voice from upstairs called a greet- 
ing. It was Terwilliger’s. 

“ Come up to my room. You are just in time to 
sign the petition. ,, 

Instead of turning into the dining-hall, the boy 
marched straight ahead to Terwilliger’s room. 
“ Time to sign what? ” he demanded. 

“ A petition to remove Dad Lubbock,” ex- 
plained the impetuous boy who sat at the table. 
“ I started it at one o’clock this afternoon, and I 
have over two hundred names. There are a dozen 
other petitions just like it being circulated. The 
whole college is for you, Penny Penfield.” 

“ You mean that it is a request for the Athletic 
Association to drop him after this season ? ” 

“ Not after this season, no. Now; right now! ” 
declared Terwilliger hotly. “ We are arranging 
a gigantic mass-meeting for tomorrow night to ex- 


THE COACH’S DECREE 


131 


press our opinion. Dad Lubbock is to be ousted 
for incompetency. He deserves to be, doesn’t 
he?” 

Wayne took the fountain-pen which the other 
thrust into his hand. He stared uneasily about 
the room: at the cardinal pennant on the wall; 
at the photograph of the football squad; at the 
window, through which he could distinguish the 
soft turf of the lower campus where the first prac- 
tices had been held. 

“ Yes,” he said unwaveringly, “ he deserves to 
be ousted.” 

And at the bottom of the imposing column of 
names, he wrote in heavy black strokes: 

“ Penfield Wayne, ex-quarter-back.” 


CHAPTER XI 


THE BIGGER THING 

The knocking was repeated, this time more in- 
sistently. Penny turned for a moment from the 
window, through which he had been listlessly 
watching the rain that pattered down upon the 
lower campus. 

“ Oh, come in ! ” he invited querulously, wheel- 
ing back to his study of the downpour outside; 
“ the door isn’t locked.” 

Behind him, the knob rattled in turning, and the 
hinges creaked rustily. For a moment, there was 
silence. Already, Penny was regretting that he 
had admitted the caller; for, somehow or other, he 
was in no mood to discuss the football situation 
with any of the fellows. In another hour, when 
the mass-meeting had come to order, there would 
be talk enough. 

“ I beg your pardon for intruding,” began a 
strange voice from the doorway, “ but I couldn’t 


THE BIGGER THING 133 

resist the temptation to drop into my old room 
again.” 

“ Your room? ” challenged the boy by the win- 
dow, a little bewildered. “I — I don’t believe 
I understand.” He rose from his chair, and stared 
uncertainly at his caller, who proved to be a man 
of middle age, with an attractive personality 
that seemed merged in his trim, athletic build 
and his strong, likable face. 

“ A dozen years ago,” the visitor explained 
gravely, “ I rented this very room, and lived in 
it one whole college year. My name is Wendell.” 

Penny held out a welcoming hand. As the 
other took it, stepping close to him, the boy knew, 
all at once, the identity of the man. His picture 
was in the trophy room of the gymnasium. 

“ Why, you’re the Wendell who played full- 
back the first year Wellworth won the cham- 
pionship, aren’t you, sir? ” he asked, his eyes 
shining eagerly. “ ‘ Wonder ’ Wendell, they 
called you ? ” 

The man nodded good-naturedly. “ Yes, I 
played football that season,” he admitted mod- 
estly, quite as if he had not been the mainstay 
of the whole team and had not been selected by 
a majority of the critics for full-back of the All- 


134 THE FOURTH DOWN 

America eleven. “ You see,” he continued, 
ignoring the topic as one of minor importance, “ I 
haven’t been back to the old school since I gradu- 
ated. A dozen times I’ve planned to come, if 
only for a day; and a dozen times business has 
made impossible my visit. Just now I am on my 
way across the country, and my stay here is a 
matter of hours.” 

“ Do you know, sir,” confessed the freshman 
irrelevantly, still under the spell of his hero-wor- 
ship, “ I didn’t even know I had your old room.” 

“ Well, you have. When I stepped off the train, 
I began to realize that a dozen years is a long 
time in college life, and that I shouldn’t know many 
who are here now. That’s why I came directly 
to the old room. Perhaps you can tell me where 
to find one or two of the old crowd. I believe 
Dad Lubbock is football coach now, isn’t 
he?” 

Penny looked suddenly away. Before he an- 
swered, he moistened his lips. 

“ Yes, sir,” he answered. “ But I hope — I 
mean, I’m afraid he won’t be after the mass-meet- 
ing tonight.” 

Wendell’s eyes, which had been hungrily study- 
ing each nook and corner of the room, went very 


THE BIGGER THING 135 

grave and hard. Penny winced unconsciously 
as they stared unbelievingly into his own. 

“ Do you mean,” asked the visitor incredu- 
lously, “ that there is to be a mass-meeting to- 
night to protest against Dad’s retention as foot- 
ball coach?” 

The boy nodded dumbly. 

“ Tell me about it,” said the old-time player. 
The words were low, and the voice even; but 
there was a menace in the command. 

So Penny told him the whole story, trying 
honestly to present both sides of the matter as 
accurately as he could. It was the first time he 
had recounted his struggles and his disappoint- 
ments to one who knew nothing of the situation, 
and he spoke from a very full heart. When he 
was quite done, Wendell asked quietly: 

“ Didn’t you realize that if the trick failed, 
as you admit it might, Wellworth would probably 
have lost the game? ” 

“ Yes,” admitted Penny grudgingly, “ but it 
was my great opportunity. It was a chance that 
might not have come again in twenty games. I 
couldn’t have afforded to overlook it, sir, do you 
think? ” 

“ I think,” said Wendell brusquely, “ that you 


136 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


could have forgotten self, that you could have 
remembered the perilous position in which you 
placed the team, that you could have overlooked 
the selfish possibility in the greater debts you 
owed Dad Lubbock, the eleven, and the old 
school itself. You set yourself against these 
three.” 

There followed a long silence. For the first 
time, Penny was beginning to appreciate the argu- 
ments that might be raised against him. 

“ I wonder,” hazarded Wendell abruptly, “ if 
you understand that a college is a little world 
of itself. When you become a part of it, you 
must learn to love it, and to make sacrifices for it. 
Unless you do, you won’t know that it has a heart 
and a soul; you won’t know that working for it 
means more — a lot more — than merely work- 
ing for yourself; you won’t comprehend, in short, 
the meaning of college loyalty. I — Do you 
mind if I tell you a little story about the time I 
played football ? ” 

“ I should like to hear it,” said Penny simply. 

“ In my first practices,” he began, “ down there 
on the lower campus, I was a country boy, and 
very awkward. The first season — I was only 
here two years, you know — I didn’t make the 


THE BIGGER THING 


137 


varsity team at all. Just why I kept out all 
through the long months of dreary work, I don’t 
know, unless it was my stubborn nature. Any- 
how, I learned a lot about football; once or twice, 
indeed, I was tried out at full-back for a few 
minutes in the games. 

“ When the second season began, I came out 
for practice once more, a good deal more con- 
fident and experienced than I had been the past 
year. The captain of the team played full-back. 
For this reason, I was tried out at half, and even 
in the line; but I didn’t fit there. At full, how- 
ever I seemed to be in my natural position. From 
the very first, I realized that my weight and my 
strength and my speed could be used to the fullest 
advantage only at full-back. 

“ It wasn’t long, either, before the captain 
knew it, too. It was his last year on the eleven, 
however, and — well, I dare say he was human 
enough to want to make it his best. At any rate, 
he played desperately to prove his right to the 
place. In practice, on the scrub team, I played 
just as desperately to prove myself the better 
man. I wanted to win my W as a regular; I 
wanted to be a member of the first eleven. It 
was a wholly selfish ambition, of course, and with 


138 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


my total lack of loyalty I couldn’t understand 
that the captain was governed by any other 
motive. It’s good, you know, to hear the big 
crowds cheering you, and tagging on your name 
after the varsity yell, and singling you out as a 
hero when you’re off the field. You must recog- 
nize the vanity that prompted me? ” 

“ Yes,” said Penny Wayne, almost in a whisper. 
His cheeks were burning, and there was a queer 
lump in his throat. 

“ Well,” continued the man, “ we fought out 
our little battle day after day in practice. It 
ended one afternoon in the gymnasium, while 
I sat before my locker dressing. Long before the 
captain reached me, I saw him coming, with his 
face set and his eyes hard. At the sight, I went 
cold and hopeless. But I was wrong. 

“ 4 Wendell,’ he said, ‘ you are to play full- 
back on the varsity after this.’ 

“ It was so utterly unexpected that for a second 
or two I sat there staring open-mouthed at him. 
I couldn’t seem to realize my good fortune. I 
remember making some inane remark about 
showing my gratitude to the coach by playing 
the best game of which I was capable, and I 
must have managed to voice my sympathy for 


THE BIGGER THING 139 

the captain. Oh, I was clumsy and tactless 
enough ! 

“ He looked at me queerly. ‘ Thank you/ he 
said quietly; and then he told me, in a wholly 
impersonal way, that I had won the coveted 
position because he himself had so elected. 

“ ‘ But don’t you want to play full-back your- 
self? ’ I asked. 

“ He turned away. I saw his shoulders shake 
once. Then he faced me again, still with the set 
look on his face. 4 Don’t I want to play? Man, 
you don’t know how I am fighting to hold myself 
in. I’d do anything in the world to keep on play- 
ing — anything but one. I won’t weaken the 
team by continuing as full-back when there is a 
better player to take my place. I won’t put my 
selfishness before my loyalty to Wellworth. The 
team needs you at full-back; the old school needs 
you. It’s a bigger thing than my petty personal 
ambition to play this year. That’s all, Wendell, 
except that as my proxy I shall count upon you 
in every emergency.’ ” 

The speaker paused. Over on the mantel, the 
little alarm clock ticked noisily. Outside, in 
the hall, footsteps sloughed past the door. In 
the silence that followed, both the man and the 


140 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


boy could hear the patter of rain upon the tin 
roof. Presently, Wendell took up the thread of 
his story again. 

“ There is a little more to tell. I played out 
the season at full-back, crowding the captain off 
the eleven. I am glad I can say honestly that I 
did my best, and that my best was enough to 
turn the balance in favor of Wellworth when we 
met the other teams that were fighting for the 
championship. My development was remarkable 
— I suppose my nickname of 4 Wonder ’ origi- 
nated for that reason — but it was due almost 
wholly to the incessant coaching of the captain 
himself, who worked over me as enthusiastically 
and as unselfishly as if he had made no sacrifice 
at all.” . 

44 I think,” said Penny reverently, 44 that I 
am beginning to understand what you mean by 
loyalty. I am beginning to understand, too, how 
blind I have been, and how selfish, and how — 
unfair! I wish I might know that captain.” 

44 You do,” smiled Wendell. 44 He’s a graduate 
coach now. I’ve been telling you about Dad 
Lubbock.” 

44 Oh! ” cried the boy, as if he had been struck. 
44 Oh! I didn’t know.” He moistened his lips 


THE BIGGER THING 141 

and drew a handkerchief across his face. The 
dampness from outside was creeping into the 
room. “ And now we are trying to force him out 
as coach because — Why, when I disobeyed 
him, and risked defeat for the whole team that 
I might satisfy my own personal ambition, he 
saw that I wasn’t the kind that would think of — 
of the bigger thing. He acted exactly as he should 
in punishing me; he couldn’t have done anything 
else, could he? And I suppose he knew all the 
time how the fellows would construe his action, 
and how I’d hate him and work tooth and nail 
against him, and how unpopular it would make 
him with the whole student body. But his own 
standing didn’t matter to Dad Lubbock; he was 
too loyal to the college and to the team to con- 
sider the effect upon himself. . . . Oh, I’ve been 
blinded to the greater issue by my own selfishness 
and vanity. I — I — How can I undo all the 
harm I have wrought, Mr. Wendell?” 

“ You might,” said the man, looking at him 
keenly, “ get into the good graces of Dad Lubbock 
again by going to the mass-meeting and telling 
your supporters what a hero he really is. Perhaps, 
if you did, he might reinstate you on the team.” 

“ Oh, I didn’t mean that,” said the freshman, 


142 THE FOURTH DOWN 

with so much of the hurt in his tone that the other 
felt like apologizing. “ I’ll go to the mass-meeting, 
yes; and I’ll work like a beaver for Dad Lubbock. 
But I won’t do it for a reward. I won’t even try 
for the team again this season.” 

“ I think,” remarked Wonder Wendell, with 
a glad look on his face, “ that you are going to 
develop into a true Wellworth loyalist of the best 
kind. Now I can tell you that Dad Lubbock 
is a stickler for principle; I learned that when 
he shamed me for offering to drop out and allow 
him to play, after I had come to a full realization 
of his sacrifice for me. No, he won’t rescind your 
sentence. But you can go to the mass-meeting 
and tell the students that he is right and that you 
are wrong. And afterward, if you like, you can 
go to him and apologize.” 

“ But that’s so little,” complained the penitent 
boy. “ I want to prove my sincerity in some more 
practical way, for the good of the team. Isn’t 
there anything else I can do? ” 

“ There’s everything else,” said the man quietly. 
“ You can show your courage by getting out 
with the squad each afternoon, and helping with 
the new players who don’t know the game; and 
by lining up with the scrubs to give the proper 


THE BIGGER THING 143 

stimulus for real football to the first eleven, with- 
out hope of winning a place on it; and by stirring 
up those who haven’t reported for practice be- 
cause nobody has instilled into their hearts the 
debt they owe the old college; and by setting 
right those others who are disgruntled because 
they have lost sight of the greater loyalty in the 
lesser personal grievances. Yes, you’ll discover 
plenty of vents for practical loyalty. And, unless 
I am very much mistaken, you’ll find playing 
on the team by proxy quite as exciting and satis- 
fying as if you were really figuring in each scrim- 
mage. Shall we run over to the mass-meeting 
now? ” 

Those who gathered that night to condemn 
Dad Lubbock remained to applaud each mention 
of his name. Wonder Wendell was the first 
speaker, and he told them the story of the coach’s 
last year as a player about as he had recounted 
it earlier to Penfield Wayne. Then Penny himself 
found his way to the platform. He lacked the 
ready eloquence of the trained orator, and at 
first his voice scarcely carried to the far corners 
of the great auditorium. But as the audience 
quieted under the spell of his earnest, sincere, 


144 THE FOURTH DOWN 

convincing arguments for Dad Lubbock, coming 
boyishly but pleadingly from a very full heart, he 
swayed it as a more polished speaker could not 
have done. When he was quite through, he sat 
down in one of the chairs on the rostrum, a little 
afraid of the absolute silence that followed. But 
he need not have been. He had left his hearers as 
reproachful and as ashamed of their plan to oust 
Dad Lubbock as he had been himself at the con- 
clusion of Wendell’s story in the room. 

In the end, the students at the meeting passed 
a resolution endorsing the coach, praising his 
skill and courage, and promising him their sup- 
port at all times. This same thing Penfield Wayne 
unconsciously repeated to Dad Lubbock, as an ex- 
pression of his own changed attitude, when he left 
the mass-meeting and went straight to the man’s 
room. After the coach had assured himself that 
the boy was apologizing and begging to be allowed 
to continue practising with the squad, quite with- 
out hope of being rewarded by a withdrawal 
of the disbarment, he held out an eager hand. 

“ Thank you,” he said, holding the other’s 
tight. “ I shall be glad to have you working 
with the other boys again, and I know now that 
I may count upon your loyal aid. It means more 


THE BIGGER THING 145 

than you imagine, perhaps, to learn you’re that 
kind.” 

Outside the house where the coach lived, Penny 
met Terwilliger, who peered suspiciously at his 
smiling face. 

“Well! Well!” exclaimed the other. “So 
Dad Lubbock is going to let you play again on 
the team, is he? ” 

Wayne shook his head. 

“ Then why,” persisted Terwilliger, “ are you 
grinning like a Cheshire cat? ” 

But Penfield Wayne offered no explanation. 
He went his way, with head held high, feet that 
seemed not to touch the ground, and the smile still 
wreathing his face. 

He had found himself at last. 


CHAPTER XII 


MOVING MOOGERS 

With both feet planted squarely upon the floor, 
Wallie Moogers stared dispassionately at Pen- 
field Wayne’s framed picture of “ The Flying 
Tackle.” 

“ No,” he said stubbornly, “I won’t! That’s 
all there is to it.” 

“ But why won’t you ? ” persisted Penny for 
the seventh time. 

“ Yes, why won’t you?” added Terwilliger 
suspiciously. 

“ I’ve told you,” declared Moogers; “ I’ve 
told you eighteen times. I am not going to report 
for football practice because I don’t like the game. 
I don’t like any game that is strenuous.” 

Wayne’s brow puckered. He had counted upon 
inducing his big freshman friend to join Dad Lub- 
bock’s practice squad, without fully appreciating 
the difficulties. And now, when he had made his 
demand upon Wallie, that youth had flatly re- 


MOVING MOOGERS 147 

fused to consider the idea for an instant. He 
brought forth a last argument. 

“ You don’t like the gymnasium drills, do you? ” 
he asked. “ No? Well, if you get out for the 
team, you won’t have to report for them.” 

Wallie Moogers laughed inwardly until his 
round body shook with the chuckles. “ Is it 
possible? If I get out and allow myself to be 
worked like a dray-horse day after day, I will be 
excused from going to the gymnasium drill four 
times a week and fooling with little wooden dumb- 
bells. Now, that sounds enticing. Just the same, 
I may as well confess shamelessly that I enjoy 
my drills, and that they promise to be even more 
pleasant after this. The regular instructor has 
departed for England to attend a physical culture 
congress, and he has left all his classes to an inno- 
cent professor from the hill, who appears for the first 
time this noon. We expect to — er — enjoy him.” 
And Moogers laughed again, this time aloud. 

The ponderous freshman, indeed, was in a 
peculiarly happy frame of mind. For a full hour, 
he had resisted the combined entreaties of Penny 
and Twig that he get out and frolic with the 
eleven, and not only had he remained quite un- 
moved, but in his opinion he had presented an 


148 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


unassailable argument in defense. No amount of 
pleading nor threatening could stir him an inch. 
He pointed a chubby finger at Terwilliger as 
that individual frowned from the window-seat. 

“ Look here, Twig, since you’re so anxious all 
of a sudden to have everybody try for the team, 
why don’t you do it yourself? ” 

“ Too thin,” explained Terwilliger. “ All my 
weight has run to length. Anyhow, I am putting 
in my spare time on the cinder track, learning to 
run.” 

Moogers shoved back his chair, and rose slowly 
to his feet. “ Well, I trust I am now excused 
from football practice,” he grinned. “ Perhaps, 
if Vobock doesn’t bear up under the strain of 
drills, I may not have to do anything at all.” 

To Wallie’s surprise, Penny’s face evinced a 
shade of sudden interest. “ Vobock? Do you 
mean Professor Vobock, the elocution teacher? 
Is he going to be in charge of the gymnasium 
classes? ” 

“ Yes. What are you smiling about? Do you 
know him ? ” 

“ I am taking elocution under him; one hour 
a week.” 

Moogers nodded his head condescendingly. 


MOVING MOOGERS 


149 


“ Well, Penny, you tell your friend Vobock that 
he will find us interested in the new theories he 
expects to advance. Put it very mildly, please! 
We are going to have a lot of fun with Professor 
Vobock; yes, a whole lot of fun.” 

As the three stamped down the stairs to their 
first recitation of the morning, Moogers was 
vaguely worried. It seemed to him Penny was 
unnaturally jovial and gay, as if he had learned 
of some enormous joke on the other. Several 
times, Wallie felt beneath his collar and around 
the tail of his coat, on the chance his class-mates 
had pinned a laundry bill or a stray sock for the 
public to view and enjoy. But he could find 
nothing. 

“What’s the matter?” he exploded peevishly, 
as they separated at the entrance to Main Hall. 

“ Nothing,” answered Penny gravely, and then, 
after a pause, “ yet.” 

To Wallie Moogers, the forenoon was a weari- 
some, dragging period, hazed in perpetual mys- 
tery; for the conduct of both Penny and Twig 
was a baflling puzzle. At ten o’clock, he passed 
Terwilliger in the lower hall, talking to four other 
freshmen, who grinned at every word he was say- 
ing. At sight of Moogers, however, the group 


150 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


became as silent and serious as the mural paint- 
ings in the president’s office. At eleven, Wallie 
caught sight of both Wayne and Terwilliger 
engaged in some elaborate campaign that included 
the button-holing of many freshmen. But when 
he approached, expecting to be included in the 
class secret, they merely nodded gloomily and in- 
quired if he were ready to get out for football yet. 

He was not. He said so with wholly unnecessary 
vigor, softened only by a concluding chuckle as 
he thought of the fun he would be having pres- 
ently with Professor Vobock. Of course, if he 
elected to practise on the gridiron, it would mean 
the abandoning of his drills. 

It was a merry and excited little band that 
Moogers found preparing for the noonday divi- 
sion of the gymnastic class. This course, which 
was compulsory for freshmen and sophomores not 
in training with one of the athletic teams, was 
divided into three classes, one of wffiich was obliged 
to utilize the noon hour for its session. As a rule, 
this section was sober in the extreme, and thought 
chiefly of completing its task and getting back to 
lunch; but today high spirits ruled the locker room. 

“ They say he is immense,” laughed a little 
freshman named Shaw. “ Has all sorts of queer 


MOVING MOOGERS 151 

ideas. I know a fellow who is in his elocution 
class, and if what he says is true we may expect 
a lot of fun.” 

“ We will extract all there is,” promised Moo- 
gers, pulling on his rubber-soled shoes. 

The previous class hour had ended at 11.50. 
At 12.15, the noon division of the gymnastic 
course filed upstairs into the drill room, with big 
Wallie Moogers leading. Try as he would, he 
could not entirely efface the anticipatory smile 
which he had worn all morning. He glanced care- 
lessly around the great room until his eyes rested 
upon the gallery at the south end. 

“ H’m! ” he grunted. “ H’m! ” 

In place of the empty chairs that usually greeted 
this class, the entire front row was filled with an 
audience of freshmen, with Penfield Wayne sit- 
ting in the middle, like the interlocutor at a min- 
strel show. Moogers tried to smile up at them, 
but they gazed down with solemn faces. If it 
had not been for the entry of Professor Vobock 
at this moment, Wallie would have been discon- 
certed. 

A ripple of laughter spread over the ranks of 
boys in gymnasium costumes. It increased to a 
roar, and then died suddenly to nothing at all. 


152 THE FOURTH DOWN 

Professor Vobock was a man out of the ordinary. 
His neck was short and thick; his head, bulging 
and dome-like. Thick-lensed spectacles made 
his eyes seem of unhuman proportions. As his 
hairy arms dangled from the sleeveless shirt, 
they looked nearly twice the normal length. 

“ Attention! ” he cried. 

There was some note in the voice that stiffened 
them all. In spite of his odd appearance, he had 
in him the ability to command obedience. 

“ To your places! ” 

“ Wait till we get started, whispered little 
Shaw to Moogers, as they walked to their num- 
bered spots near the balcony. “ It will be fun.” 

“ Gentlemen,” began Professor Vobock, “ this 
is my first acquaintance with you. I — ” 

There was something about his slight foreign 
accent and his pompadoured hair that appealed 
to Moogers as irresistibly humorous. He giggled 
outright. Professor Vobock eyed him coldly, 
and presently resumed. 

“ Gentlemen, I do not believe any of you in 
this division are members of my classes in elocu- 
tion. Therefore, I shall have to explain to you 
my system. I deplore brute strength; I believe 
in grace. While I am in control of this part of 


MOVING MOOGERS 153 

your education, therefore, I shall cultivate grace 
— always grace.” 

As Moogers reflected how the class would enjoy 
upsetting a theory based upon grace rather than 
strength, he opened his mouth and gave passage 
to a hearty, uncontrollable burst of laughter. 

Professor Vobock pointed at him. The room 
became suddenly still. “ Sir, while I am here, 
I am your instructor. I shall demand from you 
obedience and respect. If I do not get it, I shall 
take your name. The president of this university 
has given me full power to suspend or expel any 
student of this division who makes the work harder 
than necessary.” 

From the little group of freshmen that lined 
the balcony, came vigorous applause. Moogers’ 
mirth was shed as if it had been a garment to 
throw off at will. There were reasons — home 
reasons — why he dared not pursue the fun- 
making under such penalties. “ But the other 
fellows will go as far as they dare,” he consoled 
himself. “ It will be as good as a circus yet.” 

Moogers was quite right, although his expecta- 
tions were not fulfilled exactly as he had imagined 
them. 

“ Now, gentlemen,” said the little professor, 


154 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


with animation simply radiating from every inch 
of his stature, “ we learn grace from children. 
I am going to ask each one of you to imagine him- 
self a little child. First, Joy! ” 

He stretched out his hands as if he had just 
tossed a ball into the air. His right foot was ad- 
vanced. His head was thrown back. A smile 
curled his lips. 

“ There! Now, young gentlemen, do as I do. 
All together! Joy!” 

The result was interesting, however much it 
might fall short as a successful picture of Joy. 
The balcony audience slapped the railing in ap- 
proval. 

“ Look at Wallie Moogers,” said Oskison in an 
audible whisper. “ Isn’t he beautiful? He looks 
like a painting of Spring.” 

He is just throwing off a cold,” suggested 
Penny, “ and he is holding up his arms to see if 
he can catch it again.” 

“ Hold the pose, all! ” commanded the pro- 
fessor. Moogers lowered his arms a trifle, but 
was afraid to drop them altogether. 

“ Why, there’s Wallie Moogers,” piped up 
Terwilliger suddenly. “ See, he is trying to call 
the birdies to him. Peep ! Peep ! Peep ! ” 


MOVING MOOGERS 155 

“ Position !” shouted Professor Vobock. 

As Moogers dropped his heavy arms, he turned 
his head slightly to send a scornful glance at his 
tormentors. But the instructor forestalled him. 
“ Eyes to the front, if you please. You young 
gentleman with the much flesh, turn your eyes this 
way. You are not yet so graceful you can afford 
to miss the lesson.” (Penny applauded.) “ At- 
tention. Next comes Fear.” 

The professor drew himself back, knees bent 
and fists clenched, while an expression of horror 
crept over his face. His arms suggested those of 
the boxer endeavoring to ward off a rain of blows. 

“ You have all your lives been afraid of some- 
thing; is it not so? Very well! Now, all together! 
Fear!” 

Although he did not throw himself entirely into 
the posture, Wallie Moogers was acutely aware 
that he had done so enough to appear ridiculous. 
With growing anger, he heard the remarks that 
bubbled innocently from the happy family in the 
balcony. 

“ See poor old Moogers; he’s afraid of the alge- 
bra exam.” 

“ I guess there is a bear after him, which threat- 
ens to eat off all his white meat, poor fellow.” 


156 THE FOURTH DOWN 

“ My, doesn’t he look awful — so big and 
fierce? ” 

“ He always does,” put in Terwilliger. “ That’s 
just the way he always looks. He rooms right 
next to me, and I know.” 

“ Love ” was next. On one knee, with head 
tilted, the professor extended his right hand as 
if to smooth a fevered brow. Moogers imitated 
reluctantly. 

“ Wallie is caressing his favorite dictionary.” 

“ A touching proof of how much he loves hard 
work.” 

“ Moogers defying a wireless telegraph station.” 

By the time the professor allowed the class to 
relax, Wallie’s blood was degrees above the boil- 
ing point. Whether the instructor heard the 
remarks from the end balcony, it was cer- 
tain he paid no attention to them. To make 
it more aggravating, the class was as dutiful and 
as obedient as it had been in the past, and with 
each minute Professor Vobock was becoming 
more and more enthusiastic and excited. Moogers 
sighed deeply. 

“ One thing more, gentlemen, and we end to- 
day’s lesson. We must copy the grace of chil- 
dren in their play. For that purpose, nothing 


MOVING MOOGERS 157 

is better than the old-fashioned what you call 
‘ hippity-hop.’ ” He illustrated the step. “ Now, 
forward, all ! Hippity-hop ! ” 

The class skipped forward. To Moogers, this 
was the crowning humiliation of the day. 

“ Wallie isn’t exactly graceful, is he? ” observed 
Penny in a low, critical voice. 

“ Why, I think so,” championed Terwilliger 
hotly. “ I don’t think I have ever seen that imi- 
tation of an automobile with a punctured tire 
done any better.” 

But the lesson was not yet over. The trained 
eye of the professor had detected Moogers’ list- 
less leg movements. Leaving the raised platform, 
he ran among the files of students, and half- 
dragged the unfortunate shirker to the front of 
the class. 

“ Here is a man,” he explained, “ who is clumsy 
— he is fat — he is ungraceful. I shall give him 
special training, and before the year is over I 
shall make him as nimble and beautiful of manner 
as any of you.” 

“ Poor old Wallie,” sighed Terwilliger. “ I 
loved him well.” 

“ We shall begin the training now. Sir, you 
will hippity-hop alone around the class.” 


158 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


“I — I won’t,” began Moogers, angrily ; “I — 99 

The eyes of Professor Vobock assumed colossal 
proportions. “ You will hippity-hop around the 
class, or I shall report you to the president. 
Which is it?” 

For a moment, Wallie Moogers wavered, grown 
desperate from the incessant comment upon his 
actions. Then, recalling what the defiance would 
mean in the end, he lifted his foot to start. 

For the first ten yards, to his disgust, the in- 
structor saw fit to accompany him. “ Graceful 
now. Light and easy. The spirit of youth. Be- 
fore all other things, the spirit of youth. See 
up in the gallery, where the other young gentlemen 
are sitting. Note how glad and gay and unre- 
strained they are. Laugh as you skip: ha-ha! 
ha-ha!” 

With the perspiration pouring from his face, 
Moogers continued on his long run. From hair 
to heels, he felt he was making a fool of himself. 
He knew it. And although he tried hard to step 
out of time, he could not escape the “Tra-la-la! 
Tra-la-la! ” that floated musically down from the 
balcony. 

He had completed two sides and was starting 
on the third when the freshmen above trolled 


MOVING MOOGERS 


159 


out a strangely familiar chorus, led by the clear 
tenor of Terwilliger. As his fellow sufferers on 
the floor joined in, Moogers caught the words. 
It was a song he had not heard for twelve years: 

“ Hippity-hop to the barber shop 
To get a stick of candy; 

One for Lou 
And one for Sue 
And one for Sister 1 Mandy.’ ” 

“ Beautiful! ” murmured the professor, as Moo- 
gers completed the circuit of the room, utterly 
exhausted. “ I should not have believed it 
possible. Such an exhibition of the spirit of youth ! 
And in America, too, where little boys are old 
men! Wonderful !” 

The Moogers who had entered the locker room 
at twelve was not the same Moogers who left it 
an hour later. But before giving up, he resolved 
to make a last plea for clemency. Fortunately, 
Professor Vobock was still in the little round 
office which Dr. Henderson and the absent in- 
structor had shared. 

“ What? ” he exclaimed, when Moogers had 
made his errand clear. “ You wish me to excuse 
you until Professor Sandon returns. No, no f it 
is impossible; it cannot be. You are making 


160 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


such strides with me, yes? You must learn grace. 
You must get rid of self-consciousness. You must 
regain the spirit of youth. Every day I hope 
those young gentlemen will come into the gallery, 
and bring with them the same spirit of youth. In 
time, if they do, you will learn what it is. No, 
Mr. Moogers, we shall get on very well together; 
very well, I am sure. And I shall give you personal 
aid again tomorrow. No, I cannot excuse you 
from my class.” 

Wallie caught up with Penny and Terwilliger 
just outside of Mrs. Pillsbury’s boarding-house. 
He was tired but determined. 

“ What must I do,” he asked, “ to get a football 
suit from the Athletic Association? I have de- 
cided to try for the team.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE NEW CANDIDATE 

On the following Monday afternoon, Wallie 
Moogers reported with the football squad for 
practice. Penny, looking like a tiny child as he 
marched by the side of his lumbering friend, in- 
troduced him to the coach, and added the wholly 
superfluous information that if the big fellow 
proved worthy of a place on the team he would 
add materially to its total weight. 

Dad Lubbock studied Moogers’ plump body 
without smiling. He sorely needed one or two 
heavier players to give the proper balance to the 
eleven, and he was secretly pleased to note the 
prompt manner in which little Penny was proving 
his loyalty. Moreover, from the wealth of long 
experience, the coach had learned not to judge 
too hastily. Sometimes, as he well knew, it 
happened that a master player emerged from a 
pretty laughable cocoon of a candidate. That 
there might be no miracle uninvited in this in- 


162 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


stance, therefore, he promptly made room for 
the big fellow on the second or scrub team, and 
bade the varsity test him out. 

Just as Wayne had feared, Moogers refused to 
accept the badgering attack seriously. When he 
was downed suddenly, with six players astride of 
him burrowing his head into the sod and uncon- 
sciously filling his mouth and nose and eyes with 
dirt, he laughed good-naturedly. When he missed 
a tackle, and sprawled clumsily upon the ground, 
he took it as a huge joke upon himself. And when 
he delayed or ruined completely a well-planned 
play, he simply grinned at the quarter-back’s 
rage. He was willing enough, and courageous 
enough, and certainly heavy enough; but these 
are only the first foundations upon which football 
skill is builded. Dad Lubbock shook his head 
doubtfully. 

But Penny was not discouraged. When the 
coach had relegated Moogers to the side-lines 
after a few scrimmages, the little freshman fol- 
lowed at his heels, determined to waken the player 
from his lethargy. 

“ Look here, Wallie,” he said, “ you are failing 
because you’re too slow, too soft, too fat and too 
ambitionless.” 


THE NEW CANDIDATE 


163 


Moogers laughed with easy tolerance. He had 
a profound respect for his classmate, and re- 
fused to be offended by the blunt accusa- 
tion. 

“ Well,” he admitted lamely, “ nobody loves 
a fat man.” 

“Why?” snapped Penny. He knew he was 
risking the big fellow’s friendship by pursuing 
the subject, but he was very much in earnest. 

The other shook his head. It was not his 
habit to analyze the problems of life. 

“ I’ll tell you why,” went on Penny, raising 
his voice to make the charge impressive. “ It’s 
not the flesh that hangs on fellows like you; it’s 
what the flesh does. Here you stand, grinning 
like an idiot because you’re a failure on the foot- 
ball field, and because you haven’t the ambition 
to be anything else. If you’d quit being what 
the fat typifies — lazy, careless, spineless and 
slow-moving — why, the others would love you 
enough, big as you are. But you — ” He stopped 
dramatically, puffing out his cheeks with the words 
he had no wish to speak. 

Wallie Moogers looked at him thoughtfully — 
but without smiling. It seemed to Wayne that 
the mouth was firmer and the eyes brighter. When 


164 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


the other spoke, he was conscious of a subtle 
change in the heavy voice. 

“ I suppose,” said Moogers slowly, “ that you 
think I’m through ? ” 

“ Aren’t you? ” demanded Penny, as innocently 
as he could. 

“ No, sir, I am not! ” boomed the big voice 
stubbornly. “ I am going to show you and Dad 
Lubbock that I’ve backbone enough to stick it 
out to the end, win or lose.” 

The little freshman thrust out an impulsive 
hand. “ Wallie,” he said, “ we’ll stick it out to- 
gether — and we’ll win ! ” 

In the afternoons of practice that followed, 
no player toiled harder or improved more rapidly 
than Wallie Moogers. There was no doubt about 
it. Penny’s fiery denunciation had stirred his 
dormant ambition, and had set him working with 
a serious face and a receptive mind. Even Dad 
Lubbock marveled, not fully comprehending the 
process which was responsible, but unerringly 
giving credit to the little freshman who hovered 
over his classmate as zealously as a hen over her 
chick — or, as Terwilliger put it, like a Banty 
rooster training an ostrich. 

On Thursday, when a muddy field quickly 


THE NEW CANDIDATE 


165 


sapped the energies of the regular varsity players, 
the coach excused them early, and devoted the 
balance of the practice period to a short game 
between two elevens selected from the others 
on the squad. Upon one of these teams, Moogers 
was tried out at full-back. 

Before he took his position, Penny clapped an 
encouraging hand upon the other’s broad back. 
“ Now, Wallie,” he said quietly, “ go out there 
and play those other chaps off their feet. You 
can do it.” 

The gaunt grandstand held only a few rooters, 
but when Moogers marched forth upon the field 
their boisterous applause would have done credit 
to a crowd. Nor was there any mistaking the 
note of ironical glee; they were welcoming, not 
the hero, but the clown. The big fellow himself 
appeared totally oblivious to the taunting cries 
and laughter, but on the side-lines Penny, crouch- 
ing low, flushed painfully. 

“ They’ll see,” he told himself, nervously 
clenching and unclenching his hands. “ They’ll 
see. Wallie is going to surprise them.” 

And he did. As the game warmed into its 
full vigor, the rooters began to cheer the big 
full-back in earnest, and to jeer the hapless oppo- 


166 THE FOURTH DOWN 

nents who tried futilely to stop his elephantine 
runs with the ball, and to exult noisily when 
offensive formations, plunging upon his mass of 
flesh, quivered limp and dead. Once he was in 
action, there was no halting him; and, once he 
was braced for the shock, there was no power 
the other team could muster that would send plays 
through that portion of the line he braced, or 
around him, or over him. 

Much of this, as Wayne reluctantly admitted 
to himself, was due to Moogers’ advantage of 
sheer weight and to the loose and haphazard team- 
work of the opposing eleven. But Wallie went 
farther. His moon face was unsmiling and alert. 
When he was to take the ball, or to fit into a 
niche of the interference, he was always waiting 
on his toes, ready and eager for the scrimmage. 
On several occasions, moreover, as Penny took 
note to point out to the coach, the full-back was 
too quick for the others, who were forever sprawl- 
ing about uncertainly in the soft soil. Once, near 
the end of the practice game, when the other 
team had attempted a quarter-back kick that 
lured half of the defense astray and threatened 
a touchdown, it was Moogers whose saving 
brain grasped the maze of the ball’s passage and 


THE NEW CANDIDATE 


167 


permitted of a saving tackle. Whatever qualities 
he might still lack, his careless indifference was 
gone, and he had learned to think and plan for 
himself. 

For this mental advance, he had Penny to 
thank, not alone for the little fellow’s incessant 
advice on the field during each period of practice, 
but also because of certain talks and explanations, 
made clearer by charts, that had taken place 
between them in the latter’s room, behind locked 
doors, much to the disgust of Terwilliger, who could 
not fathom why he should not be included in the 
secret. It was not Penny’s way to do things by 
halves. 

The big full-back accepted his earned praise 
of “ Good work, old man,” from Dad Lubbock 
without emotion, and the congratulatory hand- 
clasp of his classmate. But they served their 
purpose. There was a new light of determination 
in Moogers’ eyes and a new tenseness of his lips. 
For the first time in his easy-going life, he was 
a-tingle with ambition. 

And then, as suddenly as he had gained his 
pedestal, he toppled off. On the strength of 
his showing on Thursday, the coach decided to 
start the game on Saturday with Moogers play- 


168 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


ing full-back. Wellworth anticipated an easy 
victory, as its opponent, Clayton College, was 
not considered even dangerous. So sure was Dad 
Lubbock of the outcome, indeed, that he had 
planned to leave his team in charge of Arnie 
Borglum, who was out of the line-up with a sore 
knee-cap, and himself attend a game in another 
city, to study in action a more formidable eleven 
they were to meet two weeks later. For this 
reason, he gave Moogers a final trial as full-back on 
the varsity for a five-minute practice on Friday 

It was a hot, muggy afternoon, ill-adapted for 
speedy play, but the weather was not accountable 
for the demoralization of the football machine 
that followed. From the very first, it creaked 
and groaned, slipping, stopping, running in the 
most wheezy, hit-and-miss fashion. The weak 
cog, as even Penny acknowledged in the end, was 
Wallie Moogers at full-back. He had slumped 
back into his former inefficiency. He was again 
flabby, slow-starting and infinitely clumsy. 

For nearly the full five minutes, the coach al- 
lowed him to disrupt the whole eleven. This was 
due in part to Wayne’s plea in behalf of the player 
and in part to the forlorn hope that the big fellow 
would find himself and regain that intangible 


THE NEW CANDIDATE 


169 


quality he had displayed the day before. But 
when hope gave way to common sense, Dad Lub- 
bock called him to the side-lines, and put Lakers 
back in his regular position. Lakers was trim and 
fast and clean-limbed, and everything else that 
Moogers was not, and could start with the ball 
and hustle the quarter-back and outrace the tack- 
lers, and do everything else that Moogers could 
not. 

But if the public and the coach had pronounced 
hopeless the task of making a football player of 
the big freshman, there was one who stood by 
staunchly, and encouraged. Never for a moment 
did Penny lose faith in his friend’s ultimate success. 

“ They can’t make us quit until the last down,” 
he told Wallie, “ and we’ve a long time to wait 
and work and learn. You probably won’t get 
into the game against Clayton tomorrow; Dad 
Lubbock is going to leave Borglum in charge, 
and he isn’t over-cordial with me, simply because 
he is a sophomore and I am a freshman. I pre- 
sume he will keep Lakers in from first to last; 
anyhow, he won’t care for any advice from me. 
But the whistle hasn’t ended the bigger game yet, 
has it? ” 

Moogers grunted a decisive negative. He had 


170 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


tasted fame, and he knew its sweetness. And if 
Penfield Wayne said he could eventually win a 
place on the team, the achievement was already 
as good as accomplished. 

But that was not all. Just before Dad Lubbock 
suspended practice for the afternoon, Penny 
solved the problem with Which he had been wres- 
tling. 

“ Big boy,” he confided, “ I know — that is, I 
am reasonably certain I do — why you succeeded 
yesterday and then failed today. IPs simple 
enough, too.” 

Then, while Moogers listened attentively, he 
outlined his theory. As he talked, the other’s 
eyes grew big with wonder, and he nodded under- 
standing^. This new knowledge was the final 
spur to his ambition, now grown as big as his 
ponderous body, that would keep him practising 
faithfully day after day, eager for instruction and 
help, thankful for each point mastered, and exult- 
ing while he was buffeted from player to player 
and buried beneath a human avalanche, to emerge 
sore and hurt — and smiling voraciously. For 
it meant that when the proper opportunity offered, 
he would not fail. 

“ So it won’t matter,” finished Penny, “ if 


THE NEW CANDIDATE 


171 


you do sit on the side-lines through tomorrow’s 
game. Down in your heart, big boy, you’ll know 
that sooner or later your chance will come. And 
if by any twist of luck it should be as full-back 
against Clayton, and if — ” 

Moogers, who had been sniffing the air during 
this speech, interrupted with a most irrelevant 
remark. 

“ It smells like rain,” he said gravely. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE ELASTIC ELEVENS 

Before the game with Clayton on Saturday 
was two minutes old, Penfield Wayne realized 
that something was wrong. Only the night 
before, Dad Lubbock had assured him that 
Wellworth would win easily. Yet here at the 
very outset, the visitors were charging steadily 
down the field, yards at a time, quite as if there 
were no opposition at all. It was almost unbe- 
lievable. 

Once more, as the boy watched fearfully, the 
Clayton backs plunged. But this time Wellworth’s 
line, after allowing a stray interference man to 
burst through, closed like a weighted gate, flinging 
from it the runner with the ball. 

Penny wrapped his cardinal blanket closer about 
him. At his side, little Martin, shivering in the 
raw air, followed his example. Ten yards to the 
right, Wallie Moogers crouched on the side-lines, 
as silent and impassive as some Indian chief. 


THE ELASTIC ELEVENS 173 
Arnie Borglum, in charge of the team during the 
coach’s absence, paced nervously up and down, 
stopping occasionally to stare fixedly at the scrim- 
mages, and then nodding reluctantly at what 
he saw, as one does when he is driven against his 
will to accept an undeniable fact. 

As the teams lined up anew, Penny rubbed his 
eyes and went back to his counting. Although 
the total was what he might have expected, and 
exactly what it should have been, he was not 
wholly satisfied. He peered thoughtfully above 
the black, half-filled stands and bleachers, toward 
the rift in the leaden sky through which the sun 
was beaming for the moment. The drizzle had 
ceased temporarily, and the boy found himself 
wondering if the sudden glare of the fireball was 
not responsible for the strange suspicion. 

Once more the Clayton back-field massed for 
a cross-buck over tackle, executing the play with 
a neatness and success that were appalling to the 
watcher on the side-lines. As if in sympathy with 
Wellworth, the sun disappeared in a bank of cloud, 
and the drizzle began afresh, oozing down upon 
the field and spreading into a faint mist, which 
rolled upward from the earth like steam. Already, 
the downpour had transformed the toiling players 


174 THE FOURTH DOWN 

into grotesque caricatures of mud-smutched hu- 
mans. 

As Penny crouched, awaiting the next move, 
there boomed into his ears the bass drum’s salvo 
of triumph, echoed immediately by the sharp, 
staccato Wellworth yell. From the other side 
of Camp Randall came the answering roar of 
defiance, a clear “ locomotive ” that rose even 
above the greater volume of voices. 

“ They’ll kick now!” shouted the excitable 
Martin a minute later. “ We’ve penned ’em up 
at last.” 

Wayne settled a cold hand in a fold of his damp 
blanket. “ No,” he said shortly, “ they won’t 
kick. Watch.” 

It was not a kick, not even a pretense at kick- 
ing. The back-field of Clayton lined up as they 
had done a dozen times already. The play was 
obvious. Then the ball jerked from its muddy 
bed on the ground, and the four players leaped 
toward the waiting line. 

“ Hold ’em, Wellworth! Hold ’em!” chanted 
the rooters. The cry rose like a groan. 

For a moment, tense with its possibilities, it 
seemed that the defenders might master the charge. 
The on-rushing back-field wavered to a transient 


THE ELASTIC ELEVENS 175 

halt, and then, as if some greater force were aid- 
ing Clayton, as if some friendly ghost of dead 
and gone gridiron hero were lending a hand, the 
left wing gave way, and the runner with the ball 
plunged through the gap for a clear gain of ten 
yards. 

There it was again. Penny rose quickly to his 
knees, breathing fast, and began to count. Before 
he had finished, another scrimmage was on, and 
another gain had been made through Wellworth’s 
line. 

“ That’s it,” he cried. 

Little Martin turned a startled face toward him. 
“ What’s it? ” he demanded. 

But Penny did not answer. He shut his lips 
closer together, ignoring the questioner altogether, 
and trained his attention steadfastly upon the 
struggling teams out on the field. 

For the third consecutive time, Clayton con- 
centrated its attack upon Wellworth’s line, which 
bent, snapped suddenly, and opened a great hole 
through which the opposing back-field might have 
walked four abreast. Penny crawled excitedly 
to the side of Borglum, who was taking the coach’s 
place that day. 

“ Arnie,” he shouted into the other’s very face, 


176 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


“ Arnie, I know what’s wrong. Quick! Count 
them, Arnie; count the players. Clayton is 
outplaying us because there are twelve men on its 
team. You just count — Oh, there’s the whistle 
ending the quarter. But wait till they line up 
again. Why, their eleven isn’t an eleven at all; 
it’s a twelve.” 

Borglum shrugged his massive shoulders and 
bent cold eyes upon Penny. “ That’s quite im- 
possible, Wayne,” he said, and turned away. 

“ But it’s true,” cried Penny. “ You count, 
and you’ll see that I am right. I tell you, there 
are twelve.” 

But there was no counting the Clayton team 
now, in the intermission between periods; nor 
was the prospect more promising a half-minute 
later, when play was resumed. As fast as the 
shots from an automatic revolver, a series of plays 
was literally sweeping the Wellworth eleven from 
its feet. One followed another before the players 
were fairly in position after a down. In the 
kaleidoscopic shifts, it was quite impossible to 
distinguish players through the misty fog; from 
the side-lines, indeed, Penny could note only that 
Clayton was tearing and ripping through the 
opposing human barricade as if it were paper. 


THE ELASTIC ELEVENS 177 

No team could withstand such offense, the 
more effective because of its incessance. From the 
middle of the field, the ball jumped, by five and 
ten-yard leaps, to within a scant seven yards 
of the goal. Here, with everything depending 
upon the next move, Clayton formed for what 
looked like the first scoring play of the afternoon. 
Even Borglum, with his stolid nature, was kneel- 
ing weakly, his fingers like claws as they dug into 
the soft earth. 

“ Arnie, listen to me!” Penny’s voice was 
a-quiver with dismay and excitement. 

Before he could say more, the play was on. 
But once again, luck was with Wellworth. With 
the touchdown only a few scant yards away, 
there followed a fumble, due to the slimy condi- 
tion of the ball; and when the officials had finally 
bored down into the struggling pile of players, 
they found little Jarvis curled about the precious 
leather. As the crowd in the stands sank back 
into its seats with a mighty sigh that denoted 
its snapped tension of interest, Parker trotted 
back of the goal-line to punt out of danger. 

With an audacity that surprised even himself, 
Penny Wayne gripped Borglum by the^shoulder 
and shook him vigorously. 


178 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


“ Quick, Arnie, count them now; right off, 
before Parker kicks. Count them, I tell you. 
They’re playing us with twelve men.” 

Borglum shook his head in disgust. “ Haven’t 
I enough to worry about without being pestered 
by you? ” he growled. “ Use your common sense, 
freshman! ” 

“ Count them — please! ” 

Borglum turned wearily toward the field, point- 
ing to the Clayton players preparing to block the 
kick if possible, and checked them off on his fingers^ 
“ — five — six — and three on the other side 
make nine — ten — and one back there: eleven. 
Does that satisfy you? If it does, tell me so.” 

The expression of expectancy on Penny’s face 
gave way to one of profound astonishment. 
Just above his nose, his forehead crinkled into a 
tangle of little creases. 

“ Well? ” prompted Borglum. 

Penny finished his second counting. “ You’re 
right, Arnie,” he confessed reluctantly, “ there 
are only eleven now. But three times now, while 
they were lining up, I made it twelve. One of 
them must — ” 

The coach-in-charge snapped his interruption. 
“ I suppose you are going to tell me the extra 


THE ELASTIC ELEVENS 179 

player disappears every now and then, eh? I 
suppose he becomes invisible, or is swallowed up 
in thin air, or — Oh, go over there and sit down 
by little Martin, won’t you? You drive me mad 
with your crazy suspicions.” 

Penny moved away from his side, still puzzled 
and worried. Near his classmate, the substitute 
quarter-back, he squatted down upon his cardinal 
blanket once more, determined to solve the mys- 
tery. 

“ Marty,” he said presently, “ in that first 
quarter, when we were being driven down the 
field, didn’t I see you counting? ” 

“ Well, suppose I was? ” 

“ Marty, were — were you counting the Clay- 
ton fellows ? ” 

“ Suppose I was? ” 

“ How many were there? ” As he asked the 
question, Penny leaned forward with a tense 
face. 

Martin smiled cunningly. He was still rank- 
ling under the smart of the other’s earlier si- 
lence. 

“ There were one thousand, four hundred 
and seventy-six and a half,” he declared so- 
berly. 


180 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


“ What?” 

“ My count may be nine-sixteenths too high. 
You meant the Clayton rooters, of course. How 
many did you make it? ” 

Wayne scowled sourly at his friend, failing to 
appreciate the humor at this time, and burrowed 
deeper into his blanket. Despite the answer, he 
was confident that Martin had also seen what 
he could not convince himself was true. Yes, 
assuredly something was wrong, very wrong. 

Again, out on the field, there came a wild 
scramble. The Clayton quarter-back fumbled, and 
little Jarvis scooped up the ball. Warmed by this 
success, the Wellworth back-field, with either 
Parker or Lakers as the apex of its interference, 
skirted the ends for fair gains, and even plunged 
successfully. Profiting by what it had recently 
experienced, the team began to run off its plays 
with the rapidity of a trip-hammer, getting the 
jump on its opponents by putting the ball 
in motion before they were lined up com- 
pactly. 

But Wellworth’s advantage was lost as suddenly 
as it had been gained. Thirty yards from the 
dripping white goal-posts, the visitor’s line stif- 
fened into a veritable stone wall of defense. As 


THE ELASTIC ELEVENS 


181 


a last desperate effort, Parker fell back on the 
fourth down to attempt a drop-kick for goal, only 
to have it blocked completely. 

As Clayton lined up to assume the offensive, 
certain now of a touchdown, Penny checked off 
the players on his fingers. Seven men were strung 
along the scrimmage line; behind them were one 
— two — three — four backs. There were just 
eleven on the team; no more. 

Quickly there followed another series of plays, 
obviously designated by a single signal preceding 
the first formation. They were as regular and as 
rapid as watch-ticks, leaving those who waited 
nervously on the side-lines only an impression 
of a confused, swirling group of players, which 
presently transformed itself into a conglomerate 
tangle of legs and arms. 

Each attempt netted a few precious yards. 
Wellworth fell back sullenly, battling to the last 
ounce of its strength, until it took its final stand 
in the very shadow of the goal-posts. 

Suddenly Penny leaped to his feet with a cry 
of consternation, and stood there staring before 
him like a wooden Indian. 

“ What next?” he asked himself wildly under 
his breath. “ What next? ” 


182 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


For, instead of a full team, the Wellworth 
eleven — misnomer for the nonce — was meeting 
the onrushing Clayton football machine with but 
ten players; just ten! 


CHAPTER XV 


A FAT BOY AT FULL - BACK 

But Wellworth’s luck still held. Even as the 
other team was crouching forward, waiting for 
the ball to be passed, the sharp shrill of the whistle 
proclaimed the period of play at an end. The 
first half was done, and, although Clayton had 
constantly threatened, it had not yet scored. 

As the two teams hurried toward the dressing- 
room, Wayne started to follow. But Borglum 
held up his hand. 

“ You stay right here,” he ordered. “ Don’t 
you suppose the boys have troubles enough now 
without your going in there and talking insanely 
about an eleven that shrinks and expands at 
will? ” 

The big guard himself limped after his team, 
to supervise the rubbing down of the players and 
to offer them the deductions of his observations 
based upon the first periods of the contest. Penny 
sat down again, with two very red spots in his 


184 THE FOURTH DOWN 

cheeks, turning a deaf ear to the steady speech 
of Martin. 

But when play had been resumed for the third 
quarter, and he had carefully counted only ten 
Wellworth players on defense for the second time, 
he forced himself to interrupt Borglum’s gloomy 
scrutiny of the game. 

“ Arnie,” he persisted, “ you must see it. 
You must count them again. Just this once, 
Arnie! ” 

Borglum whirled irritably. “ Go away,” he 
snarled. “ I don’t know what’s the matter with 
you, freshman. But I do know that I’ve heard 
enough of your wild suspicions. Why, it would be 
impossible to pit twelve players against us.” 

“ But, Arnie — ” 

“ Oh, well, what is it? Have you counted one 
too many again? ” 

“ It isn’t that,” confessed Wayne. Then, as 
he saw the brawny guard turn an expressive back 
upon him, he shrieked out his discovery. “ Our 
team is trying to hold them with only ten players 
— only ten, I tell you. Count them yourself if 
you don’t believe me.” 

While they were talking, Clayton had ploughed 
its way through the Wellworth team almost at 


A FAT BOY AT FULL-BACK 185 


will, gaining liberally with every plunge, until the 
goal-posts were close. But once again, just when 
a touchdown seemed inevitable, there was an- 
other fumble, a mad scramble for the soggy oval 
of leather, and a paean of joy from the stands 
when it was seen that the alert Jarvis had fallen 
upon it. Once more, it was Wellworth’s ball. 

Arnie Borglum sank to the ground with a grunt 
of relief. At least, the touchdown had been post- 
poned for a time. Then he turned to Penny. 

“ Boy,” he began, not unkindly, “ you’ve 
poisoned your mind with your eternal suspicions, 
and your mind is deceiving your eye. This mist, 
or fog, or whatever it is, makes it worse. But how 
on earth can you explain one of our players 
getting lost, or mislaid, or rendered invisible? 
The thing’s impossible, and even a freshman’s 
common sense should tell him as much. But to 
humor you, I’ll count the team as you suggest. 
If I find the total is eleven, as I know I must, 
I am going to send you down there near the end 
of the field, and refuse absolutely to allow you to 
speak to me again. You are getting on my nerves.” 

Then, while the water-boy was rushing out 
to freshen a fallen warrior, leaving the two teams 
strung out on either side of the scrimmage line, 


186 THE FOURTH DOWN 

Borglum counted slowly and methodically. As 
he checked them off on his fingers, he pointed out 
the players to Wayne. They reached the total 
of eleven. 

“ Now, freshman,” concluded the youth who 
was in Dad Lubbock’s place, “ you wrap this 
nice red blanket about you, and toddle down there 
to the far-end of the side-lines. And if you so much 
as come near me again before the game is over, I’ll 
send you off the grounds to the gymnasium. Is 
that clear? ” 

Reluctantly and with an air of martyrdom, 
Penny went his way. He knew it was useless to 
argue the decision. In the coach’s absence, this 
proxy was absolute in his authority. There could 
be no further speech between them until after the 
final whistle. 

The skies had darkened again. As Penny 
settled down in his new position, it began to rain. 
The ball, already slimy and muddy, became as 
difficult to handle as an oval of ice. 

Unconvinced by the logic of Borglum, the fresh- 
man persistently resumed his counting. On the 
first attempt, a confusing scrimmage made him 
lose track. But the very fact that the team, 
playing on defense, was shunted back with con- 


A FAT BOY AT FULL-BACK 187 

summate ease, suggested that it was yielding to 
superior numbers. And it was! For the third 
time that afternoon, he ran a calculating and care- 
ful eye over the players, and found only ten. 

Even as he reached this disconcerting sum, 
Clayton was upon the Wellworth line, bombarding 
it with incessant eagerness. But suddenly, from 
the very midst of the straining, pushing, pulling 
heap, the ball itself oozed out over the heads of 
the players, only to be seized by the ever-alert 
Jarvis, who by his recoveries of fumbles was doing 
more for Wellworth than all the rest of the team 
combined. 

As they lined up for the scrimmage, Penny 
counted rapidly. There were just eleven Well- 
worths. He turned to the Clayton representa- 
tives. Once more, he discovered the requisite 
total of a well-regulated football team. And 
when the play began, he realized that Wellworth 
was the stronger of the two, just as everybody had 
supposed it would prove itself to be. Under these 
conditions, it could win, but — It was enough 
to drive one mad ! 

On the next play, Wayne’s side lost the ball 
on a fumble. It was so slippery now that this 
mishap was becoming a regular occurrence. As 


188 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


the mud-coated players rose from the ground and 
tramped wearily to their various positions, Penny 
counted them idly, more from habit than be- 
cause he expected to find anything amiss. Then 
he jumped to his feet, with every nerve tingling 
in protest. There were twelve players in that 
Clayton offensive formation! 

He shook his head savagely, as he might to 
clear the brain after a nerve-dulling tackle. For 
perhaps a full minute, the result left him com- 
pletely stunned. As he studied the problem, 
squinting through the haze at the two teams as 
they clashed, the revelation came to him like a 
flash. All that now remained was to watch keenly 
for the proof of his suspicions. 

But the solution of this initial complexity gave 
way to the impossible intricacies of another. 
Even if he were sure of what he had seen, how was 
he to act? He could not carry his information 
to Arnie Borglum. The player-coach would have 
none of him. Whatever he accomplished must 
be on his own initiative and without the recogni- 
tion or aid of the one upon whom the success or 
failure of the team was supposed to rest. 

Out in the mire of mud, the two elevens charged 
and retreated, slipping, splattering through puddles 


A FAT BOY AT FULL-BACK 189 

of water, and fumbling with distressing frequency. 
Penny crouched on one knee, waiting for the 
whistle that would end the quarter. He had no 
definite plan in mind, but in the brief breathing 
spell between the periods of play he meant to 
take some action that would preclude the further 
elasticity of the two teams. 

As he watched, Lakers, the full-back, suddenly 
broke free from the tacklers, and skirted around 
one end toward Penny on the side-lines. The 
opposing defense was instantly in full cry, charging 
across the field at an angle that would force the 
runner out of bounds unless he chose to swerve 
and batter his way through them. 

Lakers apparently had no such intention. He 
ran straight for Wayne, quite as if he did not know 
he was swinging out of bounds, and stumbled 
blindly over him, with the whole eager pack 
piling headlong upon the two. 

When the officials had jerked free the tacklers, 
they found Lakers lying prone on the ground, 
with Penfield Wayne reaching beneath his back, 
under which the player’s right arm appeared to 
be caught in some way. Before anybody else 
could speak, the freshman singled out Borglum. 

“ Lakers can’t play any more, Arnie,” he called. 


190 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


Borglum looked down at them, and leaped ha- 
stily to a conclusion. “ Hurt, is he? Where’s 
Doctor Henderson?” Then he glanced along 
at the waiting substitutes. Dad Lubbock had 
told him what to do if anything happened to 
Lakers. “ All right, Moogers,” he called; “ you 
go in at full-back.” 

Almost at once, the game was resumed. But 
before the new player could be put fairly to the 
test of real football, the third period ended. 

The final quarter was singularly devoid of 
spectacular interest. There were no long runs, 
no wonderful tackles, no open nor trick forma- 
tions of any kind. The two elevens crouched low, 
with shoulders hunched, rose suddenly as if a 
volcano had belched them forth, and tugged and 
strained in the quagmire of mud. Gradually, one 
gave way with sullen reluctance, hard pushed 
by the other, until the man with the ball was 
downed. Again and again, this style of play was 
repeated; in the end, its very monotony palled 
upon the crowd. 

But there were redeeming features. For one, 
it was Clayton that was giving ground, and Well- 
worth that was forcing the other steadily down 
the field. For another, Wallie Moogers, at full- 


A FAT BOY AT FULL-BACK 191 

back, was playing with the efficiency and the 
precision that had marked his practice on Thurs- 
day. It was his splendid work, indeed, coupled 
with the nicety with which he fitted into the well- 
balanced football machine, that swung the ad- 
vantage to Dad Lubbock’s boys; for on defense 
Wellworth was now presenting an impregnable 
barrier in its line, against which Clayton butted 
impotently, already sensing the subtle change. 

The play was not a pretty exhibition. The teams 
moved with elephantine clumsiness. The slippery 
ball, fumbled frequently, skidded here and there, 
first to one eleven and then to the other; there 
was no depending upon its retention, no matter 
how substantial the gains. The players themselves 
sprawled and slid in the mud, and dug frantically 
with their cleated shoes to get under way, much 
as an engine-wheel whirls before it grips the rails. 

But the tide had turned. Despite the mishaps 
and fumbles that retarded its progress, the ball 
moved toward Clayton territory. No longer, 
as Penny Wayne noted happily, was there a 
mysterious force that strengthened the visitors 
in an emergency; no longer was there any possi- 
bility of utilizing more than eleven players in 
crises, or of battering down a team of only ten. 


192 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


It was Clayton against Wellworth now, and let 
the best team winl And the best team was do- 
ing it. 

Even so, it took ten long, hard minutes to 
cross the goal line for the first touchdown. Time 
after time, Wellworth was upon the point of 
scoring, as Clayton had been earlier, only to see 
the elusive ball leap nimbly from the arms of 
the runner, squirting little jets of mud and water 
as it freed itself. But each time they went back 
to the attack undismayed, and fought valiantly 
until the lost ground was recovered. At the end, 
when they were within striking distance, Moogers 
was given the ball because he was the freshest, 
and because he had not played long enough for 
his jersey and jacket to become as soaked and slip- 
pery as the others’. It was he who made the touch- 
down, but the crowd did not know. Long before, 
it had given up as hopeless the task of recognizing 
individual players among the mud-splattered 
groups. But little Penny, wriggling gleefully 
on the side-lines, knew that Wallie carried it 
over. 

For the final five minutes, the two teams 
struggled without result. Wellworth was frankly 
sparring for time, quite content with its advantage; 


A FAT BOY AT FULL-BACK 193 


for unless Clayton could score it could not win. 
And it is much easier and much safer to prevent 
a weaker opponent from scoring on a muddy 
field than it is to score yourself. This truism of 
football, Wellworth proved again that afternoon, 
and when the game was over at last its players 
were the victors, 6 — o. 

Afterwards, in the dressing-room, there were 
many explanations to offer. Doctor Henderson, 
of the gymnasium, vouchsafed the first. 

“ We sent Lakers home, ,, he announced. “ He 
was in no fit condition to play, and I am afraid 
he is going to be sick. He had a very high fever, 
which must have made him pretty flighty at 
times.” 

“Oh!” said Penny Wayne suddenly. “Oh, 
I am glad to hear that.” Then, when they 
looked at him in astonishment, he flushed pain- 
fully, conscious of what they might think. “ I 
mean,” he apologized, “ that I am glad it — wasn’t 
— wasn’t — well, what I thought at first.” 

But still they did not understand. So he told 
his story. 

“ You see, fellows,” he began, “ Dad Lubbock 
told me we should win easily. He said we had 
the stronger eleven. And we had. Oh, yes, we 


194 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


did, in spite of the manner in which you were 
pushed about during the first three periods of 
play. Notice, though, I say the stronger eleven. 
Why, at times, you were really playing on defense 
with only ten men, and Clayton was pushing 
you around with twelve. At first, I failed to see 
the connection between the two discrepancies; 
I didn’t stop to consider that ten and twelve 
make twenty-two, the proper total for two elevens. 

“ When I did, I watched. You were all covered 
with mud, and the fog and mist made it difficult 
to distinguish one from the other. Well, I suppose 
it took me a minute or two to make sure I had 
solved the problem. Then I discovered that 
Lakers was aiding Clayton quite as much as he 
was you. Lots of times, when they had the ball 
and you switched to a formation for defense, he 
ran over to their team and played against you, 
making twelve against your ten.” 

Doctor Henderson nodded. “ Poor chap!” 
he said. “ He was out of his head half the time, 
I suspect, and simply wanted to get into the of- 
fensive plays because of some instinct that 
prompted him to follow the ball.” 

“ Yes, you’re right,” admitted Parker. “ I might 
have known, too. We discovered early that he 


A FAT BOY AT FULL-BACK 195 


was not his usual steady, dependable self, and we 
thought it best not to use him much in carrying 
the ball. He was — well, Jarvis decided he was 
too excited to know just what he was doing.” 

“But why didn’t you tell me?” demanded 
Arnie Borglum, facing Penny Wayne. 

“ I didn’t dare,” said the freshman, smiling a 
little. “ I’d told you so many crazy things al- 
ready that you had threatened to send me to 
the gymnasium if I advanced another suspic- 
ion. 

“ Well, that’s about all. Lakers broke free 
of the bunch, and came galloping straight at me. 
I suppose even then the fever must have been 
dulling his mind. But I — fellows, I’m heartily 
ashamed of it, but I thought he had turned traitor 
to Wellworth. When we went down in a heap, 
I caught his arm behind his back, to prevent his 
getting up, and I told Arnie here that he couldn’t 
play any longer. Of course, I thought I should 
have to explain why, but Borglum imagined he 
had been hurt. Moogers went in at full-back, 
and played as I knew he would — today. After 
that, you see, the eleven was always eleven strong, 
and we had the better team, just as everybody 
conceded before the game. So we won.” 


196 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


There followed a long silence. Presently Bor- 
glum extended his hand to Penny. 

“ I owe you an apology, Wayne,” he said simply; 
and faced about to the others. “ It seems to me, 
fellows,” he continued, “ that we have three 
things to be thankful for. First, Lakers was ill 
arid not dishonest; he need not learn from us how 
nearly he sacrificed the game. Second, Well- 
worth was the victor. Third, even if Dad Lubbock 
did leave a mighty poor substitute in charge of 
the team, we had on the side-lines about the most 
loyal and the pluckiest and the cleverest little 
worker for Wellworth any team could wish. We 
players didn’t win the game; Penny Wayne won 
it.” 

It was Jarvis, the quarter-back, who relieved 
the embarrassing pause that ensued. 

“ Our next exhibit, gentlemen, is that other 
tiny child, Mr. Wallie Moogers. He also helped.” 

And then they all laughed with unnecessary 
vigor, to hide their emotions, and went on with 
their dressing. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE WINNING OF WEE WILLIE WINKLE 

Professor Wordsworth, in charge of the class 
in English Composition i, completed the reading 
of the theme, and placed the paper on his desk. 

“ The essay I have just read,” he told his 
freshmen students, “ possesses many qualities 
of real literary merit. In particular, I wish to 
call your attention to the clear but concise style, 
the compact construction, and the intelligent 
and analytical handling of the subject. Some 
of you young gentlemen will do well to bear these 
criticisms in mind, and to profit by them in pre- 
paring the themes for tomorrow. I am sorry 
to report that many of you who began with great 
promise are allowing your work to deteriorate. 
That will be all for today.” 

Outside the lecture room, Terwilliger button- 
holed Penfield Wayne. 

“ Was that your theme he read aloud, Penny? ” 
he asked. 


198 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


“ Not mine,” confessed the other, flushing a 
little. 

“ I thought not,” said Terwilliger bluntly. 
“ It was too good to have been written by you. 
Wonder who the genius is, anyhow; maybe he 
gets them out of some old book. . . . What are 
you going to do this evening? ” 

“ Why, I expect to see Wee Willie Winkle.” 

“ To see him! Weren’t you staring at him in 
the class-room just now? ” 

“ Of course,” answered Wayne patiently. One 
had to be very patient with Terwilliger, who 
seemed constantly bent upon arousing antago- 
nism. “ I was looking at his big shoulders, and 
wondering why he wasn’t out for football. That 
is the reason I am going to run around to his room 
tonight, you know; I want to put the question 
to him flatly.” 

Terwilliger considered gravely. “ He’s too 
awkward for football, I think. Probably he 
knows it, too, and won’t try to play because he 
has common sense to realize he would fail if he 
did.” 

“ Dad Lubbock thinks he would make left 
half-back if he came out,” defended Wayne. 
“ Wee Willie told me himself he played on the 


WINNING OF WEE WILLIE WINKLE 199 


Troyville high school eleven last year — and you 
may recall that team won the interscholastic 
State championship. That means a lot, Twig. 
But nobody has been able to get him out for 
practice since he came to Wellworth. Just the 
same, I expect to see him tonight and thresh over 
the subject with him.” 

But he did not. Penny’s pride was touched by 
Professor Wordsworth’s allusion to those members 
of English Composition I whose work had been 
deteriorating. At seven that evening, he shut 
himself up in his room and began the writing of 
a theme which he determined must surpass any- 
thing he had yet attempted. It promised well, 
and he planned to complete it in an hour; but 
before he was through revising and rewriting, 
the clock struck nine. There was nothing to do, 
therefore, but postpone until a later day the 
mission of persuading Wee Willie Winkle to re- 
port for football practice. 

It was the custom, in English Composition I, 
for the instructor to read aloud each day the best 
theme submitted at the previous meeting of 
the class, without revealing the identity of the 
author. On three different occasions during the 
first week, Penny Wayne had listened with par- 


200 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


donable pride as Professor Wordsworth offered 
his writings as models, and the spur to his liter- 
ary ambition had enabled him to maintain this 
sterling average for some time. During the last 
few days, however, not only had he failed to have 
a single theme of his selected for the honor, but 
he was also chagrined to detect a marked similarity 
of style in those read to the class, that suggested 
they were the products of one student. Because 
it was not Wayne’s nature to admit defeat of any 
kind without a struggle, he devoted the entire 
evening in question to the preparation of his essay 
for the morrow, and then tumbled sleepily into 
bed, with his conscience troubling him a little 
because of the forced neglect of Wee Willie’s 
athletic disloyalty. 

On the following day, Professor Wordsworth 
read another theme that Penny attributed to the 
mysterious author who had been responsible for 
so many of the recent models. It was more sug- 
gestive of a newspaper account based upon a recent 
happening thanMhe others, but it possessed the 
same trenchant style and the same keen analysis 
of the subject that had marked its predecessors. 
Although Penny conceded its excellence, and 
wondered vaguely if it might not be the work of 


WINNING OF WEE WILLIE WINKLE 201 

little Wormsley, who was trying for a scholarship, 
he was in no sense discouraged himself. His 
turn would come tomorrow. 

That night he called upon Wee Willie Winkle. 
He had never been in his classmate’s room before, 
and he was surprised to note how small it was, 
and how barely furnished. There was a cot, 
a bureau, a tiny table, and a single chair. More 
would have crowded the little room. 

But even more surprising than the place in 
which Winkle slept and studied, was the explana- 
tion which Wee Willie offered when Wayne asked 
him bluntly why he did not play football. 

“ I can’t spare the time, Penny,” he confessed 
without embarrassment. “ You see, my people 
live on a farm. Father is making a sacrifice in 
allowing me to leave the work there, without 
attempting to supply me with any money. I 
am working my way through college. I do odd 
chores in the morning — I’ve the promise of 
three furnaces to take care of later, I wait on 
table at an eating club, and I manage to find 
enough jobs to keep me busy afternoons.” 

“Oh, I see!” said Penny, moistening his lips 
and thinking hard. “ But if you had the time 
you’d like to play, wouldn’t you ? ” 


202 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


“ Of course/’ agreed Winkle simply. “ I like 
football immensely, and I play well enough, per- 
haps, to be of some help to the team. But those 
afternoon jobs pay my room-rent and buy my 
text-books.” 

“ Yes, I understand,” said his visitor absently. 
Then, abruptly, he jumped to his feet. “ Why, 
look here, Wee Willie,” he cried; “ we can arrange 
the matter easily enough. A lot of fellows I know 
will chip in and make up the amount. We’ll 
turn over to you enough money to offset what 
you earn afternoons, and you can put in those 
hours on the practice field. How about it? ” 

Winkle shook his head slowly. “ No,” he de- 
clined. “ No, I can’t accept money that way.” 

“ But it needn’t be — charity,” persisted Penny 
Wayne. “ Call it a loan, if you like, and pay us 
back when you can.” 

Again Winkle shook his head. “ It wouldn’t 
be quite fair,” he pointed out, “ either to you 
fellows or to me. No, Penny, I’d like to play, as 
I’ve told you, but I can’t do it under those circum- 
stances. Of course, if I could discover some way of 
earning enough without working afternoons — ” 

“That’s it!” exclaimed Penny. “Why, of 
course you can. You and I will just sit here until 


WINNING OF WEE WILLIE WINKLE 203 


we figure out a plan, if we have to put in the 
whole evening at it.” 

“ Thanks!” said Wee Willie Winkle. 

Penny caught the dry humor of the other’s 
tone. “ You mean you’ve something else to do? ” 
he asked. “ You mean that I am keeping you 
from something?” 

“ Why, yes,” admitted Winkle with his usual 
candor. “ I have just been transformed from a 
waiter to a student, you know, and there are classes 
and lectures tomorrow. For one thing, I must 
get at the writing of my theme for Professor 
Wordsworth.” 

“ I suppose,” hazarded Penny curiously, “ that 
you find writing themes pretty difficult. I do.” 

Winkle’s brown eyes sparkled. “ Everything 
that’s worth while is difficult,” he said. “ But 
I seem to have a knack for original composition; 
that’s why I am specializing in English. Professor 
Wordsworth has been good enough to encourage 
me once or twice. He — he read my theme in 
class today.” 

“ Was that yours?” shouted Penny Wayne. 
“ Why, of course it was; I might have known. 
Sincere, strong, courageous, clean-cut — you’re 
just putting yourself into what you write, Winkle. 


204 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


And yesterday’s was yours, too; and Wednesday’s, 
and Tuesday’s, and Monday’s? ” 

“ Yes,” confessed Wee Willie, very much con- 
fused now. “ But I didn’t mean to tell you, 
Penny, and — and — ” 

Wayne held out his hand. “ Professor Words- 
worth will read yours tomorrow, also,” he said. 
“ You’re a better writer than I am, and I congrat- 
ulate you. You’d prove a better football player, 
too, if you had the chance. Well, you will have it; 
just wait and see. I am going now, but if I can 
possibly find a way around this obstacle I’ll let 
you know. I feel as if I had just begun to get ac- 
quainted with you, Winkle, and to discover that 
you’re real man’s size in a lot of ways. Good 
night.” 

“ Good night,” said the other, opening the 
door for him. “ Mind the broken step near the 
bottom, Penny; I don’t think Dad Lubbock 
would ever forgive me if I allowed you to trip and 
hurt yourself. Good night.” 

Under the guidance of this warning, Penny 
Wayne found his way safely to the outer world. 
But once he was clear of the house, he forgot 
everything else in searching for means of solving 
the problem that would enable his friend to report 


WINNING OF WEE WILLIE WINKLE 205 

daily for football practice. So engrossed was he 
with his thoughts, indeed, that he ran full-tilt 
into another student whom he met in the next 
block. It was Homer Hood, the college corre- 
spondent for one of the Chicago papers. 

“ Easy there, you fiery little line-plunger,” 
gibed Hood, catching him by the shoulders to 
steady himself. “ Just for that, Penny Penfield, 
you shall come up to my room and tell me as 
much about the dark and mysterious inside history 
of the football team as you dare. Come along.” 

“ Not tonight,” began the freshman apologet- 
ically. “ I can’t — ” Then he stopped in the 
middle of the sentence. “ Why, yes, I can, too; 
and I believe I can tell you something worth hear- 
ing. All right, I’ll go with you.” 

Hood’s room was large and richly furnished. 
So marked was its contrast to Winkle’s, from which 
Wayne had just come, that it seemed even more 
luxurious than it really was. As he sank into 
the soft cushion-seat of a Morris chair at his host’s 
invitation, Penny looked quizzically into Hood’s 
face. 

“ I don’t suppose,” he said, “ that you chance 
to know a freshman named Winkle — Wee Willie 
Winkle, we call him? ” 


206 THE FOURTH DOWN 

Hood shook his head. “ I don’t remember him.” 

“ Well, I just came from his room. It’s smaller 
than yours, and it’s less comfortably arranged. 
Winkle can’t afford a better, for the very good 
reason that he is working his way through Well- 
worth. He’s a country boy, a little awkward in 
appearance, perhaps, but muscular, and big- 
framed, and trained as trim and clean as a hound 
by his farm work. Dad Lubbock thinks he would 
make a wonderful half-back on the team, and 
asked me to see if I couldn’t persuade him to 
come out for football. I called for that purpose 
tonight.” 

“ That’s like you,” smiled Hood. “ You’re 
teaching some of us upper-classmen, who thought 
we were prepared to do nearly anything for the old 
school, what loyalty really means in actual prac- 
tice. But how about this Winkle? Is he going 
to try for the team ? ” 

“ He can’t,” said Penny; “ he needs what he 
can earn afternoons to pay his way here. If he 
didn’t have to work during the hours the squad 
is out, he would be glad to play.” 

“ If it is a question of money,” began Hood, 
reaching into his pocket, “ why, put me down 
for — ” 


WINNING OF WEE WILLIE WINKLE 207 

“ No, it’s more than that. He won’t accept 
money, either as a gift or as a loan. We must 
find some way for him to earn his expenses which 
will leave him two or three spare hours each 
afternoon. I suppose it is mighty cheeky of me 
to come to you in this way, but you have made it 
a bit easier by what you just said about loyalty. 
Hood, you ‘ cover ’ the football practice for one 
of the Chicago dailies, don’t you?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Why do you do it? ” 

“ Experience,” said the correspondent. “ I 
expect to take up newspaper work when I grad- 
uate.” 

“Then it’s not for the money you earn?” 

“ Hardly,” laughed Hood. “ I send about 
250 words daily, and get paid at the rate of five 
dollars a column. That amounts to something 
like a dollar a day, and — ” He stopped smiling, 
very suddenly, and leaned forward toward his 
caller. “ I see what you mean,” he said slowly. 
“ But that’s impossible, quite impossible, Wayne. 
Why, this Winkle probably can’t write.” 

“ But he can,” insisted Penny. “ He is in my 
composition class under Professor Wordsworth, 
and^he has been turning in themes that fairly 


208 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


crackled with snappy English. Only this morn- 
ing, the professor read one that was really a 
newspaper report. You couldn’t have done it 
better yourself, with all your training.” 

“ It’s impossible,” said Hood once more, “ quite 
impossible. Even if I were able to turn this work 
over to him, what about myself? Still, I sup- 
pose — ” 

Penny leaned forward. “ Perhaps you have 
already planned to do some other writing when 
you found the time,” he suggested shrewdly. 

“ Yes, I have. I ‘ queried ’ my paper several 
days ago about sending in some sport articles for 
the Sunday issues, and the editor told me to go 
ahead with them. I’ve been putting it off be- 
cause I lacked the time. The story of the practice 
each day doesn’t interest me much, and I had 
already decided to ask Bob Warren if he wanted 
to try his hand at it.” 

“ Well, then,” said Penny, “ there isn’t any 
reason why you shouldn’t make Winkle corre- 
spondent in your place.” 

“ But why should I do this for a man I never 
saw? ” demanded Hood. “ Why — ” 

“ You wouldn’t be doing it for Winkle alone,” 
Penny pointed out. “ You’d be doing it for Dad 


WINNING OF WEE WILLIE WINKLE 209 


Lubbock, for the football squad, for the old 
school itself. Don’t you see, Hood, it’s your 
opportunity to prove your loyalty to Wellworth. 
If Winkle makes the team — and he is sure to 
do it — he will be your proxy; and when he be- 
gins a long run down the field with the ball, and 
the crowds cheer like mad for him, you’ll know, 
down in your heart, that they are really cheering 
you; and when he braces for a tackle, you’ll 
brace, somewhere up in the grandstand, and the 
same lump that crops up in his throat will crop 
up in yours; and when he downs the player with 
the ball, you’ll tingle with a queer warmth, up 
there, just as he does down on the field, and you’ll 
rub your hands together, and wipe your eyes 
when nobody is looking, and kick hard on the 
seat ahead, and maybe pinch yourself, to make 
sure it isn’t a wonderful dream from which you 
may awake; and when the game is won, you won’t 
cheer with the others, because that will seem too 
much like cheering yourself, until somebody pokes 
you with a cane and asks you if you aren’t glad, 
and then apologizes hastily when he gets a look 
at your eyes and your lips.” 

For a long time, Hood did not speak. He 
turned over the log in the fire-place, and 


210 THE FOURTH DOWN 

watched it break into flames. Presently, he 

asked: 

“Won’t it still seem a charity to Winkle? 
How can I make him accept the position of cor- 
respondent? ” 

Penny Wayne rose to his feet, and held out 
his hand. “ It won’t be a charity,” he said, “ be- 
cause it is something you can use no longer, and 
because it is simply an opportunity for Winkle 
to earn for himself. Tell him you had planned 
to drop it before you ever heard of him; tell 
him you want to prove your loyalty to Well- 
worth that way. There could be no more clinch- 
ing argument to the right kind of a fellow. And 
Wee Willie’s just that kind. You’ll do it, then? ” 

“ Why, yes,” agreed Hood readily, “ of course. 
Only — ” 

“ Only what? ” 

“ Only it doesn’t seem to be a sacrifice at all, 
after what you have said. I want to do it; I am 
eager to do it; I am only afraid now that some- 
thing will prevent.” 

“ That,” said Penny, somewhat vaguely, “ is 
because you’re the same kind of a fellow Winkle 
is. Now, you make it your business to see that 
the Chicago paper accepts him as correspondent 


WINNING OF WEE WILLIE WINKLE 211 


in your place, which will enable him to earn even 
more than the work he is now doing afternoons; 
and Wee Willie Winkle will prove his worth on 
the football field.” 

And he did. A fortnight after he reported for 
practice, Dad Lubbock was using him regularly 
at left half-back on the varsity team, and exulting 
over the acquisition of one of the most promis- 
ing players ever developed at Wellworth. Once, 
indeed, he exulted aloud from the side-lines, and 
Penny Wayne and Homer Hood, who were stand- 
ing near, grunted assent and grinned happily 
at each other. 

But until they saw him in his first game, cer- 
tain of Wellworth’s alumni in Chicago had never 
heard of him, which they considered a little re- 
markable in view of the fact that their favorite 
newspaper published admittedly the most ac- 
curate and the best written accounts of the prac- 
tice sent out from the college city. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE QUITTER 

On the Monday after the Clayton game, Wallie 
Moogers reported for practice with a slight limp. 
This lameness slowed him up to such an extent 
that the whole team suffered. Tuesday there was 
no gain in his speed; nor was there improvement 
on Wednesday, or Thursday, or even Friday. By 
this time, of course, everybody from Dad Lubbock 
to Penfield Wayne knew that the hurt was well, 
and that Moogers’ failure to maintain the pace 
he had set was due to other causes. 

The back-field problem was a constant worry 
to the coach. Captain Parker was playing right 
half, and playing it well; but his real position 
was at tackle, where he was sorely needed to 
brace a wavering line. With Lakers ill for the 
time being, and Moogers failing as a substitute, 
full-back was a prize for which several candidates 
were striving. In the game on Saturday with 
Granby University, played on the latter’s field, 


213 


THE QUITTER 

Eidenfessel was substituted for the fat boy, after 
Wallie had proved conclusively that he would not 
do. At left half-back, Wee Willie Winkle played 
his first real contest with moderate success, 
promising even thus early to develop into a star. 
With this line-up, Wellworth managed to win by a 
score of 1 7 — 12 against an admittedly inferior team. 

But Dad Lubbock was not satisfied. Both the 
offense and the defense must be strengthened. 
Parker was needed in the line, the weight — and 
the vanished skill — of Moogers was needed at 
full-back, and Eidenfessel needed “ gingering 
up.” The German boy lacked an essential qual- 
ity of the game; just what it was, the coach did 
not care to admit, even to himself. Perhaps, if 
he could swing him over to right half-back, in 
place of Parker, the change would spur him to 
greater activity. But until Lakers was well 
enough to play again, or until Moogers improved 
enough — if he ever did — there was nothing for 
Dad Lubbock to do but make the best of a very 
discouraging situation. 

All this he explained to Wayne as the two sat 
together on the side-lines a week later, perhaps 
five minutes after the game with Needham College 
had begun. Needham was strong, with an evenly 


214 THE FOURTH DOWN 

balanced team; so dangerous, in fact, that Dad 
Lubbock had studied it in action the day Wellworth 
met and defeated Clayton. 

“ Yes, you’re right,” agreed Penny, wrinkling 
his forehead with the worry of the problem. 
“ Well, you can count on Moogers later, but not 
for the next few weeks. Eidenfessel — What’s 
the matter with his playing, Dad? ” 

“ Watch! ” commanded the coach. 

Out on the field, Jarvis straightened up, the 
ball in his hands. The back-field rushed toward 
the opposing line on an angle, beginning a cross- 
buck play, with Eidenfessel carrying the ball. 
But from the outset, his interference literally ran 
away from him, leaving him unprotected and 
hesitating. He was tackled and thrown violently. 

“ Too slow? ” asked Penny. 

The coach shook his head. “ Not that.” 

Where he had been downed, Eidenfessel lay 
motionless after the others had piled off. Little 
Jarvis, the quarter-back, prodded him gently 
with the toe of his cleated shoe. Both Dad Lub- 
bock and Penny Wayne could hear his shrill en- 
treaty. 

“ Get up, Petey,” he snapped, “ and don’t 
play dead. You aren’t hurt.” 


215 


THE QUITTER 

In proof of the assertion, Eidenfessel rose 
slowly to his feet, glowering at the earnest quarter. 
Penny could imagine his thoughts. What right 
had Jarvis to judge him? the German boy was 
probably arguing to himself. It was easy enough 
for the little fellow to call off a few numbers, bend 
down for the ball, and then shoot it and the play- 
ers behind him into the midst of the vortex that 
fought about them. At full-back, Eidenfessel 
bore the brunt of the real attack; it was he who 
faced the real danger. Jarvis merely hovered 
on its outer fringe. . . . Now Wayne understood 
the weakness of his classmate. 

“ He’s a coward,” he told Dad Lubbock bluntly. 

“ I should hardly call him that,” the coach 
replied. “ He needs seasoning to stimulate his 
courage. Did you ever go swimming when you 
were a youngster, and watch the bigger fellows 
dive from some high point, and shiver with fear 
as they did it — and then force yourself to try it 
once, only to discover that it meant nothing at 
all? Well, Eidenfessel’s like that. If he could 
be tossed head-first into a scrimmage, and made 
to understand there wasn’t any real danger, he 
would be one of the best players out there. As 
it is, he is inclined to hold back, to shirk, to — ” 


216 THE FOURTH DOWN 

“ To quit,” Penny finished for him. “ Petey’s a 
quitter, I do believe. I wish I might talk to him 
for a few minutes! ” 

“ Try it between halves,” suggested Dad Lub- 
bock. “ You might impress him more than I 
could.” 

The two teams lined up again. Jarvis cast a 
calculating eye over his back-field, and rattled 
off his signal. Then he scooped suddenly at the 
ball the center chugged at him, passed it neatly 
to Eidenfessel — and the two elevens were once 
more writhing and struggling in a compact mass. 

The full-back was tackled for a loss. Gregg, 
of the opposing eleven, toppled him over back- 
ward, carrying him toward Wellworth’s goal. This 
fact of itself proved that of the two Eidenfessel 
was charging the more weakly. 

“ Get up! Get up ! ” rasped Jarvis’ penetrating 
voice. “ Afraid ? ” 

The full-back climbed painfully to his feet, 
and shambled slowly into position. Parker mo- 
tioned him forward, closer to the line. 

The next play was around left end, with the 
captain carrying the ball. Eidenfessel broke 
quickly into the interference, apparently resolved 
to clear a path through which a wagon might 


217 


THE QUITTER 

be driven. Instead, Wellworth’s line wavered and 
broke, allowing Gregg to come catapulting at 
the German boy, head lowered, like a battering- 
ram. When they met, Eidenfessel fell in the very 
path of Parker, who tripped over him into a 
tackier’ s arms. The full-back himself was shunted 
out of the scrimmage altogether, and lay a half- 
dozen yards behind the ball. 

“Up with you, Petey!” yelled the remorseless 
quarter-back; and Eidenfessel, shrinking and 
white-faced, stole into his position. On the side- 
lines, Dad Lubbock bit savagely at his under-lip, 
and Penny Wayne wriggled nervously. 

It was Needham’s ball now. Their wizened 
little quarter studied the opposing line before 
him, searching for its weak link, which he seemed 
to divine was the tackle substituting for Parker. 
As the coach and his freshman companion watched, 
the ball was snapped suddenly, and the Needham 
players plunged. The Wellworth line, backed 
for a moment by Eidenfessel, held, wavered, 
tightened, wavered again, and then gave way, 
allowing the opposing team to come crashing 
straight upon the defending full-back, and over 
him, till he lay flat on the ground, with the others 
pinning him down. 


218 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


“ He tried,” said Penny hopefully. 

But after this failure, Eidenfessel’s playing 
became more cautious, and, naturally, less effect- 
ive. He dodged now instead of meeting the 
enemy head-on. When he fell, he squirmed 
quickly to one side. And, once or twice, he cringed 
back ingloriously when a sudden, sharp, defensive 
movement would have meant a difference of 
yards. He was saving himself, Penny told the 
coach bitterly; saving himself at the expense 
of the other Wellworth players. 

Jarvis, too, saw and understood. “ You aren’t 
trying, Petey,” he accused, making no effort to 
lower his voice. “ You’re ‘ dogging ’ it, I tell 
you. Get into the plays like the rest of us.” 

Spurred by this accusation, Eidenfessel did 
better for a time. But his activity was short- 
lived. After Gregg had tackled him again, and 
he had been sucked involuntarily into an un- 
usually vigorous scrimmage, he lapsed into his 
maddening lassitude, and no amount of urging on 
the part of Jarvis served to inspire greater effort. 

After a time, the two teams zigzagged close 
to the side-lines. Binner, a substitute full-back, 
edged close to the coach, and nodded to Penny. 
If the boy had not lacked the necessary weight, 


THE QUITTER 219 

Dad Lubbock would have put him in Eidenfessel’s 
place at once. 

“ I suppose,” said Wayne to the substitute, 
“ you’d like to be out there playing.” 

“Wouldn’t I?” Binner exclaimed. “Why, 
I’d give anything in the world to have the chance.” 

Out on the field, Eidenfessel evidently caught 
the words. He jerked up his head, and stepped 
back, apparently on the point of retiring in favor 
of Binner. Little Jarvis hesitated, turning toward 
Dad Lubbock as if hoping for the change. But 
the coach neither moved nor spoke. He was 
afraid to sacrifice the difference in weight — and 
the game was still early. 

“ Line up, fellows,” came Jarvis’ insistent 
command. “ Closer to the line, Petey; you’re 
supposed to be playing, too, you know. Now, all 
together.” 

But it was no use. Wellworth could not gain 
consistently with a shirker at full-back. Three 
times the backs sought to penetrate the Needham 
line, or to circle around its ends; and three times 
they failed to advance the ball. Parker fell back 
to punt out of danger. 

It was Gregg who broke through again. Eiden- 
fessel, who should have stopped him after that, 


220 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


made only a half-hearted effort, and Parker’s 
kick was hurried and weak, carrying only some 
thirty yards. Then Needham began to batter 
its way down the field. 

After the first scrimmage, an official elbowed 
his way to the ball, and studied its position. 

“ First down,” he called; “ ten yards to gain.” 

Needham bucked once more, the right half 
slipping between the guard and the weak tackle. 

“ First down,” conceded the referee; “ ten 
yards to gain.” 

This time it was Gregg who swept aside the 
inefficient tackle, as well as Eidenfessel, backing 
him up, and plunged through the gap for a sub- 
stantial gain. 

“ First down; ten yards to gain.” 

On the side-lines, Dad Lubbock groaned. Like 
an echo came the throaty sigh of Penny Wayne. 
Out on the field, Parker hurriedly sent the tackle 
to right half-back on defense, and himself knelt 
in the line between guard and end. Instantly, 
it braced. The official was calling the second 
down now, with six yards to gain; the third, with 
the same distance to make; the fourth, with still a 
yard to go. And then, after the next scrimmage, 
there was measuring with the tape, and arguing, 


THE QUITTER 221 

and a comparison with the rods and chain on 
the side-lines, and — 

“ Wellworth’s ball! First down; ten yards 
to gain! ” 

Parker switched back to right half on offense, 
and on the first attempt carried the ball six yards 
beyond the line scrimmage. Eidenfessel was of 
little help, but even the coach lost sight of this 
fact in his joy over the knowledge that his team 
could still gain. Little Jarvis crouched low. 

“ 9 -7-5-9” 

“ Signal is sixteen,” said Penny Wayne to the 
coach, quite as if Dad Lubbock were not aware of 
the key. “ That’s Eidenfessel over the left guard. 
Now, Petey!” 

But Eidenfessel had missed the signal alto- 
gether. When Jarvis swung about with the ball 
in his hands, and sent it toward the full-back end 
over end before he saw the danger, the German 
boy was staring stupidly at Gregg, already burst- 
ing through the line. There was a flash of yellow 
as the pigskin swished over his shoulder, an en- 
gulfing wave of humanity that swept all before 
it, and then a mad scramble for the fumbled ball. 

Gregg recovered it on the bound, tucked it 
under his arm, and sprinted half the length of 


222 THE FOURTH DOWN 

the field for a touchdown. The score was: Need- 
ham, 6; Wellworth, o. A cleanly kicked goal 
added another point for the visitors. 

Back where he had fallen before the onrushing 
players of the other eleven, Eidenfessel lay quite 
motionless for a second. Both the coach and 
Penny watched him closely. First, he moved 
his right leg experimentally, as if to test whether 
it was hurt. Next, he straightened out the left, 
apparently disappointed that it was unbroken. 
Both arms were extended, cautiously on the in- 
itial attempt and then with angry force. 

“ He’s looking for an excuse to quit,” admitted 
Wayne to Dad Lubbock, “and he’s sorry there 
is no real hurt.” 

By this time, little Jarvis had reached the prone 
figure. Something he said brought Eidenfessel 
to a sitting posture with a jerk, but as the player 
caught sight of Gregg marching toward them with 
the ball, to make ready for the try at goal from 
touchdown, he sank back on the ground. 

“ Perhaps he’s really injured,” Wayne told 
the coach; but down in his heart he knew his 
class-mate was simply seeking an excuse to be 
taken out of the game. After a bit, indeed, Eiden- 
fessel rose to his feet. 


THE QUITTER 223 

Dad Lubbock turned abruptly to the eager 
Binner. 

“ Get in at full-back, boy,” he told him, “ in 
Eidenfessel’s place.” 

As the substitute raced happily out upon the 
field, the coach shook his head with discourage- 
ment. 

“ He isn’t heavy enough to play it out to the 
end,” he said. “ Penny, we’re going to be beaten I ” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE COURAGE OF EIDENFESSEL 

As Eidenfessel limped miserably from the play- 
ing field to the nearest vantage point on the side- 
lines, honestly convinced that he had been taken 
from the game because of his injuries, he noted 
with surprise that nobody ran forward to greet 
him, nor to offer the supporting prop of a sturdy 
arm and shoulder. Quite at a loss to account 
for this neglect, he stared in perplexity at Dr. 
Henderson, from the gymnasium, who was un- 
concernedly watching a scrimmage and talking 
to Dad Lubbock beside him. 

Eidenfessel sank to the ground, experiencing a 
twinge of pain as he bent his ankle. Yes, he was 
genuinely hurt. He moaned dismally, and moved 
his foot again. This time, strangely enough, 
there was no answering thrill. Through a hole 
in the stocking, he touched his lower shin, ready 
and queerly eager to twitch at the torture. There 


was none. 


THE COURAGE OF EIDENFESSEL 225 

Slowly but overwhelmingly, a cold tide of 
apprehension began to envelop him. His mind 
wandered from the game itself. He could see, 
as clearly as if he stood at the very door, the round 
office of Dr. Henderson’s in the gymnasium 
tower, with the neatly framed legend on the op- 
posite wall, “ WELLWORTH HATES A QUIT- 
TER! ” If his injury had been imaginary — 

“ What’s the matter, Eidenfessel? ” asked 
Penny’s voice over his shoulder. 

Unable to think of a suitable answer, the boy 
on the ground merely groaned. Penny looked 
at him with eyes that seemed to hold little 
pity. 

“ Tell you what I’ll' do, Petey,” he said pres- 
ently. “ Dr. Henderson has a good horse Tiere. 
It is hitched to a sad, weary buggy, but the shay 
will probably hold together long enough for me 
to take you home in it. He told me I might use 
it/’ 

Eidenfessel nodded assent. Anything was better 
than remaining at the game till the end, which 
must be followed with examinations, explana- 
tions and — and possibly denunciations. He 
limped through the alleyway between the “ A ” 
and “ B ” bleachers, with Penny marching on 


226 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


before him and not offering any assistance. Back 
of these tiers of seats was the buggy. 

They drove out of the gates at a slow trot. The 
big black horse was evidently eager to extend 
himself, but Penny held him in with taut reins. 
To the questions of the ticket men, the boy an- 
swered nothing definite at all, except that he 
was taking Eidenfessel out of the grounds — a 
fact that was quite evident without explanation. 

With the horse still trotting under restraint, 
they turned sharply to the right, and then across 
the railroad tracks to Johnson Street. Eidenfessel 
caught Penny’s arm. 

“ Look here, this isn’t the shortest way home.” 

“ I know it.” 

“ Then where are we going? ” 

“ Nowhere in particular.” 

The big horse shied crazily at a piece of wind- 
blown paper. Eidenfessel stiffened until the danger 
was past. “ What’s the matter, Penny? Why are 
you acting in this way? ” 

“ Because,” answered Wayne, choosing his 
words deliberately, “ I want to talk to you. I 
want to shame you. I want to explain that Dad 
Lubbock and the others are calling you a quitter. 
Are you really hurt? ” 


THE COURAGE OF EIDENFESSEL 227 


Eidenfessel considered gravely. He was too 
honest by nature to tell anything but the truth. 
“ No,” he said shortly. 

“Are you a coward?” continued his inquis- 
itor. 

“I — I don’t know,” confessed Eidenfessel 
wearily. “ Am I ? ” 

Of a sudden, Penny’s face lost its tense look. 
When he spoke, his voice was sympathetic. 

“ Petey,” he said, “ do you suppose if I thought 
you were I should bring you out here like this 
and taunt you with the fact? It is because you 
are not a coward at heart, and because I know you 
are not, that I am talking to you this way.” 

“I — I don’t know,” said Eidenfessel again. 

“ I tell you, you are not afraid. There is no 
cowardice in your nature. The trouble is, you’ve 
never plunged into the midst of real danger. You 
don’t even know how to get into it. You stand 
on the outside, and think about the possibilities; 
and by the time your real impulse to do the right 
thing is gone, you are undecided, and wavering, 
and hesitating. Dad Lubbock says that if you 
could be put to a crucial test, you’d meet it like 
a real man. He compares the football situation 
to divers — ” 


228 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


What happened came with such appalling 
suddenness as to defy analysis. As Eidenfessel 
remembered it afterwards, the dog did not run 
from anywhere in particular, but sprang abruptly 
into life by the curb and began to race alongside 
the fore-quarters of the black horse, barking fu- 
riously. The horse jumped, backing and thrusting 
forth his head so unexpectedly that the reins were 
torn from Penny’s hands. They slipped to the 
ground in a twisting, snaky tangle. Next, as 
far as his memory served, Eidenfessel knew they 
had left the dog far behind. The buggy, creaking 
and threatening to collapse with every turn of 
its wheels, was spinning dizzily along Waltham 
Avenue, with the black horse gaining speed at 
every stride. 

Like a parachute jumper clinging to his trapeze, 
Eidenfessel’s strong fingers clasped the iron rods 
that supported the old buggy top. He cast a 
startled glance at the street below. It was flowing 
by like a terrifyingly swift, yellow river. The 
horse, with ears pointed back, was galloping him- 
self into a frenzy. From somewhere near at hand, 
a voice was droning — why, it was Penny who 
was talking. 

“ I can pay Dr. Henderson for the buggy if 


THE COURAGE OF EIDENFESSEL 229 

we smash it,” he shouted, “ but I hope nothing 
happens to the horse.” 

“ Why, you are playing a joke on me,” accused 
Eidenfessel hopefully. But another sight of the 
racing road beneath made him understand. It 
was no trick on Penny’s part. It was danger. 
It might mean injury — or death. 

“ Shall we jump? ” asked Wayne. 

“ Yes,” screamed Eidenfessel. He bent over 
the side of the rickety buggy, bracing himself 
with his right foot against the dashboard. Then he 
began to consider. “ No! Oh, no! We might 
be killed.” 

As he turned to Penny for sympathy, he noted 
the other’s jaw set a little more firmly than 
usual. 

“ All right, Petey. We will stick, then. But 
you would find jumping only half as bad as it 
looks if you would brace and do it.” 

Eidenfessel hesitated. With his mind partially 
made up to risk a flying leap, he suddenly col- 
lapsed in the seat. 

“ Penny — ahead — coal wagon — we’ll hit 
it!” 

Directly in the road in front of them, with its 
black length broadside, stood a grimy coal wagon. 


230 THE FOURTH DOWN 

The horse had been turned parallel with the 
street, but the wheels and body stretched across 
the course of the ’runaway. Penny reached for 
the whip. 

“ Relax,” he shouted. “ If we hit it, there will 
be a nasty tumble.” 

“ Penny, are — are you trying to make him 
go faster with that whip? ” 

“Impossible!” flung back the other. “No, 
I am going to try something else.” 

The wagon was now scarcely a quarter-block 
away. It loomed up solid and terrifying, an al- 
most unavoidable barrier. Eidenfessel sucked 
in his breath in a very ecstasy of apprehension. 
With one hand on the dash, Penny leaned 
forward. 

“ Catch me by the coat,” he commanded. 
“ Steady me.”/ 

The full-back obeyed mechanically/- Wayne 
leaned out over the flying 'hoofs, and flicked the 
black horse sharply on the side of the neck — 
once — twice. There was no apparent result. 

Now they were almost upon the wagon. Eiden- 
fessel stared at it with horror over the impending 
catastrophe. But Penny was not even looking 
at it. As coolly as if there were no danger at all, 


THE COURAGE OF EIDENFESSEL 231 

he leaned forward a little farther and again 
snapped the whip along the horse’s neck. 

The last stroke told. The runaway lurched to 
the right with a jolt that threatened to upset 
the buggy, which grazed the bulky standing ve- 
hicle by the thinnest of safe margins. So close 
was the passage, in fact, that the whip was torn 
loose from Penny’s hand. 

Strangely enough, Eidenfessel began to breathe 
a little easier. His heart had been beating faster 
when they were fifty feet from the wagon than 
it had when they were five. He turned to his 
companion. 

“ Now what? ” he asked. 

“ We must get safely across University Avenue 
up ahead,” said Penny. “ The real danger is 
there. If we are lucky, we won’t hit a street-car. 
If we are not, — ” 

Cold fear gripped Eidenfessel again. His mind 
calculated the chances of safety. He even con- 
sidered the possibilities of a safe jump. 

From the side of the road, a grocer’s boy rushed 
out, waving his hand. The black horse did not 
even swerve. A cry from two men on the side- 
walk served only to increase his speed. A chicken 
squawked wildly, and fluttered to safety. Little 


232 THE FOURTH DOWN 

bumps shook and lifted the buggy as it wheeled 
over them. It seemed to Eidenfessel he had never 
traveled so fast before in all his life. 

But once again, curiously enough, his fear de- 
creased rather than increased as they neared the 
danger point. He even stole a quick look at 
Penny, and laughed a little hysterically. The 
tension was too great to last. 

With a final burst of speed, the black horse 
covered the few remaining rods that separated 
them from the Avenue. As he dragged the buggy 
upon the thoroughfare, a street-car came bowling 
along from the west, moving so rapidly that it 
rocked from side to side. A collision of some kind 
was inevitable. Either they must crash into the 
car, or the car must crash into them. 

• Utterly without reason, Eidenfessel’s mind 
became suddenly calm. He watched the horse, 
newly frightened, leap upon the car track, clear 
it at a bound, and attempt to pull the buggy free. 
He caught the grimace of wondering fear on the 
face of the motorman, who wrenched desperately 
at the brake. He heard a woman on the walk 
scream out in fright. Then — 

There was a mighty crash. Rickety buggy 
and Penny and he were all tossed into the air. 


THE COURAGE OF EIDENFESSEL 233 
Bands blared. Volcanoes belched their lava. 
Kaleidoscopes spilled their colors over the whole 
world. Sky and earth slid from their proper 
places. Or so it seemed to Eidenfessel. 

When the whirling lights lifted from before his 
eyes, he found himself standing knee-deep in the 
ruins of the buggy. The car was grinding to a 
stop a few yards away. With the shafts dragging, 
the black horse was already a block distant, still 
galloping madly. 

He paused irresolutely, half-dazed. But the 
quick, insistent clanging of a gong claimed his 
attention. Down the road, coming as only such 
teams do, rushed the light chemical fire-engine of 
the city, drawn by two charging horses. 

He looked about him. The ruins of the buggy 
clogged one side of the street. The car that had 
hit it, now at a standstill, barred the center. 
Only on the left side, toward which the driver was 
urging his racing steeds, was there space for the 
passage of the engine. And in this path lay 
Penny Wayne on his back, motionless, white- 
faced, with a little trickle of blood oozing from 
his head. 

Clang! Clang! Clang! warned the bell. But 
to Eidenfessel it was a beckoning call. He was 


234 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


not afraid. He did not hesitate. The great 
moment had come when he must plunge into 
danger without stopping to calculate the costs. 
He met it without flinching. 

With a leap, he was free from the wreckage of 
the buggy. Six steps carried him to Penny’s 
side. As he knelt, he could hear the hoof-beats 
closing in. There was no need to wonder why 
the driver had not stopped, for the thing was an 
impossibility. 

As he lifted the boy from the ground, he felt 
him stir in his arms. At least, Penny was not 
dead. Then, as the hoofs seemed to leap for him, 
he pushed his burden clear, and scrambled for 
safety himself. 

Something hit him. He felt a sharp pain in 
his head and another in his stomach. Then the 
world went black before his eyes. 

A few seconds later, Eidenfessel looked up 
wonderingly into the face of somebody who was 
kneeling over him. It was that of a middle-aged 
man with black whiskers, who seemed to dominate 
the circle gaping at the football player. He was 
prodding the German boy’s body. 

“ Ah, sir,” he said, as he saw the other open 
his eyes, “ I was just examining you.” 


THE COURAGE OF EIDENFESSEL 235 

Eidenfessel pushed him away, and leaped to 
his feet. “ Penny 1 Oh, Penny! ” 

“ All right, Petey! ” Wayne’s voice was a 
little odd and shaky. Eidenfessel found him 
leaning against a store window, surrounded by 
an army of small boys. He was white and trem- 
bling. Before the other could say more, he pointed 
exultantly up the street, where the black horse 
that had run away with them was being led by 
a hostler. 

“ Not a scratch on him,” he declared. “ The 
man is taking him to Dr. Henderson’s barn now, 
one of these youngsters tells me. Are you hurt? ” 

Eidenfessel shook his head. “ Of course not,” 
he declared. “ Penny, can you run? Come on, 
then.” 

“ But, young man,” shouted the black-whis- 
kered person as the two swung off in an even 
stride, “I — ” 

“ I think,” said Eidenfessel gravely, “ that he 
is a doctor, yes, who wants a fee for examination. 
Shall I call him for you? ” 

“ I’m not hurt,” gasped Penny. “ I am willing 
to run, too. But where are — are you going?” 

Eidenfessel’s teeth were set. “ I’ve found 
out something. Nothing is as bad as it seems from 


236 THE FOURTH DOWN 

the outskirts. I was afraid when the horse shied 
at a piece of paper. I was no more afraid than that 
when we nearly hit the wagon. I was less afraid 
when the car smashed us. I wasn’t afraid at all 
when I saw the chemical engine coming for you. 
I had been into danger tossed, like you said. 
I am not a coward, and I am going back to Camp 
Randall to ask Dad Lubbock if I may play the 
last quarter. . . . Let’s jump that meat wagon 
for a ride/’ 


CHAPTER XIX 


BACK INTO THE GAME 

Wayne and Eidenfessel reached the playing 
field just in time to witness the final scrimmage 
of the third quarter. Binner, looking rather the 
worse for wear, had been given the ball, and was 
circling left end when Gregg tackled and threw 
him. As they went down together, the whistle 
shrilled the conclusion of the period. 

“ Yes,” Dad Lubbock was saying to Henderson, 
the gymnasium director, “ Binner lacks the 
stamina to go at top speed for a full game. He 
has played himself out already, and there is 
nobody left to take his place except Marsh there, 
who is also too light. But he must go in.” 

“ No, sir,” panted Eidenfessel over the coach’s 
shoulder, “ Marsh will go in, no. I will play 
full-back myself.” 

Dad Lubbock looked in astonishment from the 
speaker to Penny. The latter nodded solemnly. 

“ Yes, Dad, let him play the last quarter. The 


238 THE FOURTH DOWN 

rules will allow you to put him in at the beginning 

of the period.” 

“ But — ” 

“ It’s like this,” explained Penny hurriedly. 
There was little time in which the coach could 
make his decision. “ You see, Eidenfessel climbed 
up to that high point from which the big boys 
were diving, and forced himself to try it. Now, 
it’s nothing at all to him. Do you under- 
stand? ” 

Dad Lubbock was by no means certain that 
he did, although he recalled his earlier comment 
about stimulating Eidenfessel’s courage. But 
one point he recognized clearly. Penfield Wayne 
was asking him to give the German boy another 
trial, and, because the coach had come to rely 
so much upon the freshman’s loyal aid, he agreed 
without further argument. So, when the minute’s 
intermission ended, Eidenfessel went into the 
game again as Wellworth’s full-back. 

The play began. Presently, the wizened quarter- 
back of the visiting team gave Gregg the ball for 
a line-plunge. Eidenfessel met him half-way, 
and tackled fearlessly before the runner could 
ward him off with his open hand. They thudded 
to earth like sand-bags from a soaring balloon. 


BACK INTO THE GAME 


239 


“ Get up, Petey — ” 

Little Jarvis broke short his imperious command 
with a gasp of astonishment that caused Penny, 
squatting over on the side-lines by Dad Lubbock’s 
side, to chuckle loudly. Eidenfessel was already 
in position, and the player on the ground was 
Gregg. 

Twice more Needham hurled its runners against 
the line that had heretofore crumbled at will; 
twice more it sagged and wavered as if about 
to break, only to tauten into a veritable stone wall 
of impregnable defense. It was Eidenfessel, 
playing back of it, who was the master of the 
situation; it was he who threw his ponderous 
weight against the impact, timing his braces to 
the second, and leaping forward with the exultant 
surety of one who has only a single purpose 
in mind. 

In four downs — the last a “ fake ” kick 
thwarted by the German boy at full-back — Need- 
ham failed to gain a yard. When the ball changed 
hands, and while little Jarvis still sat jealously 
upon it until Moody, at center, could straddle 
the oval, Eidenfessel lined up, snuffing the ap- 
proaching scrimmage with dilated nostrils, and 
spat forth a . venomous : 


240 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


“ Signal! ” 

Even from where he sat, Penny could see the 
amazement of Jarvis, who blinked wonderingly 
at the change that had come over his full- 
back. Apparently fearful lest it should prove 
a whim of the moment, he rushed his players 
into place. 

“6-9-4 -i,” h e yelled. 

The signal was fifteen. Fifteen sent Eiden- 
fessel between left tackle and guard. Before the 
ball was fairly off the ground, the backs were 
in motion, and Jarvis had swung the oval hard 
into the pit of the full-back’s stomach. Although 
the German boy gasped, as if from pain, there 
was no lessening of his forward rush. The half 
who led the interference, Parker, had wedged 
open a slight gap, just enough to give leverage 
for a runner; and Eidenfessel crashed into it as a 
street-car at top speed might crash into a light 
carriage into it, through it, and away from it on 
the far side, with Gregg hanging to his moleskins 
and being dragged until other tacklers could reach 
them. It was a ten-yard gain. 

“ Line up, already,” called Eidenfessel. “ Line 
up, Jarvis, quick! ” 

And Jarvis, who during the first quarter of 


BACK INTO THE GAME 


241 


play had nagged the other constantly in this 
manner, made no retort. Something had trans- 
formed his full-back into the most eager and help- 
ful one of the whole eleven. 

The next play was around left end, with Parker 
carrying the ball. Eidenfessel was off like a flash, 
treading hard upon Wee Willie Winkle’s heels, 
and fairly shoving him against the out-playing 
end of the Needham team. He veered suddenly 
himself, and shouldered aside the opposing tackle, 
going down with him. But as he fell, he caught 
the sweep of air from the runner with the ball, 
and knew that he had swished past in safety. As 
a matter of fact, he had cleared a space through 
which a wagon might have driven. 

He did not rise immediately. Out on the side- 
lines, Penny’s finger-nails cut into the palms 
of his hands, and the coach coughed loudly in 
clearing his throat. Was the full-back to quit 
again ? 

But they need not have worried. Little Jarvis, 
the former inquisitor, ran anxiously to the player’s 
side, and stooped over him. 

“ Hurt, Petey? ” he asked gently. 

Eidenfessel leaped to his feet. “ ‘ Hurt ’ ? ” he 
echoed in a voice that carried far. “ Well, I 


242 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


should say not. Keep the others going, Jarvie. 
We’ll get them yet.” 

Whereat, the coach, turning away from Penny 
Wayne, looked down the field at the looming 
goal-posts toward which his team had been moving, 
and laughed like a school boy. 

Wellworth gained again, thanks to the full- 
back’s efficient aid; and again, and still again. 
When they halted for a breathing spell, the ball 
was on the enemy’s last chalk-line. Needham’s 
quarter-back was frantic now, and he danced 
about excitedly, shifting his players here and there 
to secure a stronger defense. 

For a single down, no more, his shifts accom- 
plished their purpose, and Wellworth did not 
advance. But on the next play, Eidenfessel cut 
through the line with the ball, mowing down tack- 
lers as a gigantic scythe might have done, and 
scored the touchdown. 

Over at the side of the playing field, Dad Lub- 
bock rose to his feet, and shook hands with Penny 
Wayne. 

“ ‘ He dived,’ ” quoted the man, remembering 
the queer way in which the boy had told him of 
Eidenfessel’s change of heart, “ 4 and now i.tV 
nothing at all to him.’ ” 


BACK INTO THE GAME 243 

Parker kicked goal, adding another point. 
Up in the stands, the Wellworth rooters repeated 
again and again the varsity yell, encouraged 
among others by the vociferous Terwilliger as 
a cheer-leader; and the band blared forth into 
an air of triumph. It was not victory, to be sure; 
but neither was it defeat. The score was now: 
Needham, 7 ; Wellworth, 7 . And there were 
still a few precious minutes to play. 

Eidenfessel was very tired. His head throbbed 
with an ache, and his stomach tingled queerly, 
quite as if he had been hurt. Too many adven- 
tures had been crowded into the last hour to 
leave him full master of himself. But in spite 
of his weariness and real or fancied pain, he had 
no thought of giving up. In the scrimmages that 
followed, he played with every ounce of vigor 
and dash at his command. 

Perhaps three minutes later, when it seemed 
to him he could stand no longer, there came a 
fumble. Curiously enough, it was Gregg, of the 
Needham team, who missed the signal this time, 
and it was Eidenfessel, of the Wellworth, who 
recovered the ball. 

Instinct alone prompted him to tuck it properly 
in his armpit, with his hand cramming it there, 


244 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


and the muscles of his arm swelling along its 
rough cover. For a fraction of a second, he hesi- 
tated, a little dazed and uncertain as to what he 
should do next. Then understanding came. He 
lowered his head and charged for the white goal- 
posts ahead, apparently miles away. 

A ghost-like form rose before him. He pressed 
the palm of his free hand against a warm, sweaty 
face, and the tackier fell backward and to one 
side. Another dived at him, caught frantically 
at the moleskins encasing his thighs, and was 
shaken off like a rat. A third ran straight for 
him, launching himself through the air, with only 
the tip of his shoe dragging to make the tackle fair; 
but Eidenfessel dodged quickly, and the other’s 
finger-tips merely scratched down his leg. After 
that, there was an open space, where he ran over 
three chalk-lines on the field, watching them wa- 
rily that they might not rise and trip him in some 
treacherous fashion. 

Before him stretched a deserted gridiron to 
the very goal-posts — no, not quite deserted, 
either; for from the left a tackier was running 
at an angle that must invariably bring them to- 
gether within the next twenty yards. In Eiden- 
fessel’s weary eyes, he loomed hopelessly grim and 


BACK INTO THE GAME 


245 


forbidding. He could never pass him. Why, it 
was ridiculous to expect that he could bowl over 
anybody without help, or even escape without 
being downed himself. He — 

His sight cleared. The face of the onrushing 
tackier grew more distinct. For the first time, 
Eidenfessel recognized his enemy, and laughed 
in a very ecstasy of relief. It was only Gregg! 

The two met on the twenty-yard line. Gregg 
tackled with disconcerting accuracy and power 
just above the knees, but his fingers found only a 
frail hold. Even so, the shock threatened to 
topple over Eidenfessel. But now, as had been 
the case since his return from the adventures 
outside Camp Randall, he was a better player than 
Gregg, and a stronger, and a more courageous. 
In the first quarter, perhaps, he would have 
given way before the tackle, and conceded de- 
feat; but now that he was unafraid, and quite 
sure of himself, he only braced until he could 
right his falling body. Then he whirled suddenly, 
with every muscle responding, and lifted the Need- 
ham player clear from the ground, as school boys 
do the unlucky “ snapper ” in the good old game 
of “ crack-the-whip.” 

Gregg held with the tenacity of despair. But 


246 THE FOURTH DOWN 

the moleskin pants offered no secure hold, and 
the impetus of the swing was tearing him loose. 
His fingers slipped at last, and he sailed ten feet 
away, where he landed in a queer little heap. 

Eidenfessel stifled an insane desire to follow 
the man and laugh at his sorry plight, which 
seemed to the full-back the funniest thing he had 
ever known. But there was other business to do; 
an end to be attained. He raced on to the padded 
white posts, crossed the goal-line beneath the 
connecting cross-bar, and dropped to the ground, 
clinging to the ball as if he feared it would be 
taken from him. As the others rushed to his 
side, the whistle blew. The game was over — and 
won. 

Afterward, when he was trying to walk without 
swaying, Penny Wayne flung an arm about his 
shoulders. 

“ Pm glad, Petey,” he said, “ that you proved 
yourself. Dad Lubbock and I were a little wor- 
ried — ” 

“ I know,” interrupted Eidenfessel, “ but I am 
cured now. You needn’t worry any more.” 

Then Doctor Henderson came up and dug him 
playfully in the ribs. Eidenfessel winced at 
this, and the gymnasium director ran his sensi- 


BACK INTO THE GAME 


247 


tive hands over the boy’s body, halting them sus- 
piciously near the stomach. A brief examination 
was enough. 

“ You’re hurt,” he said. “ There is an ugly 
bruise and possibly a fractured floating rib.” 
He glanced from the full-back’s wondering eyes 
to his head. “ Yes, and you have a scalp wound, 
too. How do you explain them? ” 

“ I don’t know,” confessed Eidenfessel in all 
sincerity. “ Why, I didn’t even know I was 
hurt.” 

“ They aren’t football injuries,” explained 
Penny Wayne gravely. “ He and I met with some 
adventures while the game was going on — a 
runaway, a smash-up with a street-car, a — Well, 
Petey Eidenfessel here saved my life by dragging 
me out of the path of a fire-engine, but didn’t get 
quite clear of the horses’ hoofs himself. That’s 
how he was hurt.” 

“ And he must have played the last quarter 
with a throbbing head and a paining body,” 
said Jarvis, who had joined the group. “ Why, 
I — I thought he was a coward, and just the same 
as told him so.” 

“ A coward? ” exclaimed Dad Lubbock. “ Why, 
Eidenfessel never hesitated, nor flinched, nor 


248 THE FOURTH DOWN 
thought of quitting all through that last period. 
He’s on the team to stay.” 

“A coward?” echoed Penny Wayne, smiling 
up into Eidenfessel’s glad eyes. “ He’s anything 
but that! ” 


CHAPTER XX 


THE SUSPICIONS OF TERWILLIGER 

“ It isn’t fair! ” complained Terwilliger bitterly, 
throwing himself into one of the chairs in Wayne’s 
room. 

Penny smiled to himself, and marked in his 
Latin translation the point at which he had been 
interrupted. His caller shuffled uneasily with his 
feet. 

“ Out with it, Twig,” urged Penny. “ Who or 
what is the subject of your present suspicions?” 

Terwilliger had the grace to flush. “ I expected 
you to laugh at me,” he declared. “ Nobody 
seems to sympathize when a fellow’s in trouble.” 

“ In trouble? I beg your pardon. What is 
it?” 

“ It’s that inter-class race the day before 
Thanksgiving,” admitted Terwilliger. “ We had 
our trial to choose the runners, just as the other 
classes did. And now Clabby says we must run 
it over again. Is that fair? ” 


250 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


“ Isn’t it? ” countered Wayne. “ You know 
what happened in the trial. Most of us took the 
wrong road altogether, and it was practically im- 
possible to select the winners.” 

“ I didn’t get off the course,” flared Terwilliger, 
“ and I won. Now, didn’t I? ” 

“ Yes,” conceded Penny, “ and — ” 

“ And you finished second. Now, didn’t you? ” 
“ But I was one of the crowd that took the 
wrong road.” 

“Well, what if you did?” argued Terwilliger. 
“ You came in second, and I don’t believe your 
way was a single step shorter. I came in first. 
Now, do you know why Clabby didn’t select us two 
to represent the freshman class in the race itself? ” 
“ Because,” explained Penny patiently, “ the 
trial was not truly run. We went by different 
routes.” 

“Nonsense!” snorted Terwilliger, kicking out 
contemptuously with his long legs. “ Do you 
know who finished third ? ” 

“ Yes,” admitted Wayne; “ it was Clabby’s 
younger brother.” 

“ Exactly! Well, he might win or be second if 
he had another opportunity. So Mr. Clabby pre- 
tends he couldn’t pick the best two runners from 


THE SUSPICIONS OF TERWILLIGER 251 

that race, and asks us to try it again. It’s a trick, 
I tell you; a despicable, underhand trick.” 

“ Twig,” said Penny earnestly, “ your suspi- 
cions are ruining your character. You’re losing 
your sunny nature, and you’re developing into a 
mighty disagreeable sort of a fellow. Clabby is 
one of the instructors at the gymnasium, as you 
know, and he’s as straight as a string, I’m sure.” 

“ Prove it,” taunted Terwilliger, scowling hard 
at the carpet. 

“ I can do it in two ways. First, he told me only 
this morning that inasmuch as you finished first 
and took the right road, he had decided to make 
you one of the freshman runners and excuse you 
from the new trial.” 

For a moment, Terwilliger had no answer ready. 
With his own position assured, Penny hoped his 
classmate would concede the fairness of the man 
who had been placed in charge of the runners. But 
the other was still dissatisfied. 

“ He was forced into the decision, I suppose,” 
he said surlily. “ But the trial is to be run over 
again, isn’t it? And you and young Clabby are to 
compete, aren’t you, in spite of the fact that you 
beat him the other time as squarely as anybody 
could wish?” 


252 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


“ If I am the better runner, I can beat him 
again.” 

“ With a fair race, yes. But they will put up 
some trick on you, mark my words, and — ” 

“ Twig,” said Penny, “ you are unjust to your- 
self and to Coach Clabby. I don’t want to preach, 
but your constant suspicions are sadly warping 
your nature. We have argued the matter enough 
already, and you have demanded proof other than 
mere words. Well, here is a chance to put it to 
the test. I shall agree to the special trial run to- 
morrow afternoon to decide upon the other mem- 
ber of our team. We go the full course, and I ex- 
pect to win. If I do, and if the coach selects me 
instead of his brother, will it restore your faith in 
humanity? Will you promise me to fight back 
your ugly suspicions hereafter and become the 
sunny, optimistic chap you should be?” 

“ If you are chosen as my team-mate for the big 
race,” agreed Terwilliger solemnly, “ I won’t utter 
another suspicion this year. But you will dis- 
cover — ” 

“ — whatever I may,” Wayne laughed lightly. 
“ Mind you, Twig, after it’s all over, I shall listen 
to no excuses, and I shall offer none. Even Coach 
Clabby insists upon a decisive result this time, 


THE SUSPICIONS OF TERWILLIGER 253 

and has made us promise to abide by the trial, no 
matter what occur.” 

“ I understand,” said Terwilliger. “ And, if 
young Clabby is chosen over you, I am going to 
withdraw and force the coach to put you in my 
place.” 

Before Penny could protest, the door swung shut 
behind the suspicious freshman, and he was gone. 
From the window, Wayne watched him with wor- 
ried eyes as he crossed the lower campus. 

“ Why, he mustn’t do that,” he told himself. 
“ It will ruin his chances for the track team next 
spring.” Then he smiled at the simple solution of 
the problem. “ If I win this trial,” he reflected, 
“ Terwilliger will not only have been taught a 
sound lesson about baseless suspicion, but he will 
be my team-mate when the big race is finally run. 
I must win tomorrow for his sake.” 

On the following afternoon, when Penny 
emerged from the gymnasium upon the lower 
campus, he found the grounds crowded with stu- 
dents anxious to watch the start. The race it- 
self was a combination of the regulation cross- 
country run and the modified Marathon, and there 
were four entrants for this preliminary trial. But 
the real competition, as all knew, lay between 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


254 

young Clabby and Penny Wayne. Brown and 
' Jordan, the two others, were admittedly inferior, 
and had elected to run simply to test their speed 
and endurance in preparation for track work in 
the spring. 

The football season was in its last month, with 
a string of unbroken victories for Wellworth. Be- 
cause Wayne hoped to be a member of the track 
team during the second semester, Dad Lubbock 
had urged him to enter for the inter-class race. 

The start was prosaic enough. They did not 
dig holes in the track for their toes, and crouch 
with hands touching the ground, as they might 
have done on the cinder course for a short dash. 
An official, merely lined them abreast, asked in an 
unnecessarily loud voice if they were ready, and 
fired his revolver. The race was on. 

Brown and Jordan took the lead in the first hun- 
dred yards, eager to make a good showing while 
their strength lasted. Clabby and Wayne fol- 
lowed close upon their heels, running side by side 
and watching each other narrowly. And so the 
four swept out of sight of the crowd as they jogged 
far down the straightaway road that marked the 
initial mile. 

For twice that distance, there was no material 


THE SUSPICIONS OF TERWILLIGER 255 

change in their relative positions. Then came a 
sharp up-grade, where the country drive climbed 
the side of a hill. The two leaders took it without 
a change of pace, but before they were half-way to 
the top Penny saw them faltering. Jordan was 
leaning too far forward, and stumbling. Brown’s 
heels jarred him with every step. Wayne himself 
was running easily, taking his full weight on the 
balls of his feet, and regulating his breathing with 
every thought insistent upon the preservation of 
all possible strength and wind for what was still 
to come. But Clabby, by his side, was also nurs- 
ing his powers with consummate skill. 

They reached the summit, trotted across the 
fifty feet of level road, and struck the descent upon 
the other side. His practice and training as a 
member of the football squad had made Wayne 
certain of his ability and endurance, and he quick- 
ened his stride into a semi-spurt. Half-way to the 
little valley below, he began to forge to the front; 
twenty yards from it, he was on even terms with 
Brown and Jordan, both red of face and puffing 
distressfully; at the bottom, he was leading them 
all, smiling confidently, and now sure of the ulti- 
mate result. 

As the road straightened out level again, he 


256 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


slackened speed, satisfied with the gain he had 
made. Almost instantly, his ear caught the pit-a- 
pat of footsteps behind him, ever coming closer; 
and, before he could resume his old stride, Clabby 
swept past, running as easily as if it were merely 
play for him. The victory was by no means as- 
sured. 

Wayne set his teeth, lowered his head, and put 
additional force into his legs. Already, in spite of 
his splendid condition, the strain was beginning 
to tell. For the first time, he became conscious 
of the jerky play of his muscles, which had here- 
tofore moved with the frictionless efficiency of a 
well-oiled machine. His breathing was not as regu- 
lar as it had been. Little wisps of hair blew down 
over his eyes, and lay wet and sticky on his 
perspiring forehead. And the race was not half 
over! 

He hung doggedly upon Clabby’s heels. Once, 
indeed, the toe of his running shoe tickled the 
other racer, and made him falter for a moment. 
After that, Penny swung to the other side of the 
road, following the path of the deep wheel-rut. 

For a mile or more, they ran within a yard of 
each other. Back of them, lost somewhere in the 
tortuous windings of the track, Brown and Jordan 


THE SUSPICIONS OF TERWILLIGER 257 


were stumbling forward, always falling farther and 
farther behind, but forgetting the pair ahead of 
them in the keen exhilaration of their own struggle 
for supremacy. It was as if two races were being 
run, one behind the other. 

Three miles from the finish, Wayne began to 
increase his stride. He was not ready to sprint; 
for a long race, even if it falls short of the Mara- 
thon distance, saps a runner’s vitality till his only 
ambition is to finish; trotting, staggering, even 
walking, if need be — but still finishing. The sud- 
den acceleration of speed on Penny’s part, there- 
fore, was merely a challenge. Perhaps he could 
draw out that reserve strength his opponent was 
obviously husbanding. 

Foot by foot, inch by inch, he crept ahead. 
Then, behind him, Clabby laughed. Even with- 
out turning his head, Wayne knew that the other 
was coming like the wind. Piqued by the sudden 
loss of the lead, Clabby was forgetting everything 
save the satisfaction he would experience in prov- 
ing that he could go to the front when he liked. 

Immediately, Wayne resumed his former pace: 
that steady, easy, ground-covering step-and-re- 
covery he had maintained during the other trial. 
From the corner of his eye, he watched gloatingly 


258 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


as Clabby reached his side and spurted past him, 
flinging back into his face a boyish laugh and a 
careless dare of six words — six words, mark you, 
of wasted breath when breath was as precious as 
gold! 

Gabby’s was a false and ill-calculated spurt; 
Penny knew this instantly. Now if he would only 
keep it up, he must assuredly endanger his chances 
of winning by running himself out three miles from 
the finishing line. 

Gabby did keep it up. When he swung out of 
sight around the next curve, he was fifty yards 
ahead; when Wayne caught another glimpse of 
him, he was still further in the lead — and tiring 
himself tremendously in his futile sprint. 

Penny fought back the insane desire to close the 
gap. He knew he could do it easily enough, but 
just at this time it would be folly. Later, when the 
other began to tire, as he surely must do under the 
strain of such a pace, it would be comparatively 
simple to regain the yards that were now threat- 
ening his chances of success. No human being 
could hope to run long as Gabby was running. 
So Penny jogged contentedly in the rear, with a 
song in his heart, reserving whatever strength he 
might for the last cruel mile. 


THE SUSPICIONS OF TERWILLIGER 259 

Presently the road curved through a little 
clump of trees, and began to wind downhill. 
Wayne recalled that there were three groves, and 
that the last, on the Collins farm, was just two 
miles from the finish; from victory. After he had 
crossed the little bridge over the gully, he expected 
to begin the final grind that was to wear down the 
lead until he overcame it altogether. 

He emerged from the shade of the low-hanging 
branches out into the bright sunlight. Ahead of 
him, perhaps a quarter-mile, loomed the second 
grove. Fixing his eyes upon it, as a weary traveler 
in the desert does upon a green oasis, he jogged 
steadily and evenly until he reached the objective 
point. Then, breathing deep of the cool autumn 
air, and stamping hard upon the moist ground, he 
threw back his shoulders and focused his glance 
upon the woods of the Collins farm. 

“ After I pass over the bridge,” he thought, “ I 
will go on and catch him. I must win! ” 

But when he reached the very middle of the 
little span, he threw up his head with a sudden 
listening gesture. Were his nerves playing him 
false? Or had he really heard a faint cry? Then, 
as he ran noiselessly on the toes of his feet, he 
caught the sound again. It was no figment of his 


260 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


imagination, but a shout from beneath the bridge. 
He slowed until he heard it the third time. 

“ Hulloo! Hulloo, up there! ” 

It was the voice of Coach Clabby, the man in 
charge of this trial race, the older brother of the 
runner now leading. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE CROSS - COUNTRY RACE 

Wayne did not stop at once. For perhaps a 
half-dozen strides, while his mind questioned, he 
kept to his pace. The loss of even a minute at this 
crucial time might change the whole aspect of the 
race — and the winning meant much more than 
the superficial victory! Suppose it were some trick 
to delay him; suppose — He shook his head sav- 
agely, thoroughly angry with himself. He was 
growing as suspicious as Terwilliger, whose trust 
and faith in mankind he was endeavoring to re- 
store. With set lips and clenched fists, he came to 
a standstill, and walked quickly back upon the 
bridge. 

Leaning over the frail hand-rail, he peered blink- 
ingly into the little gully beneath. At first he 
could see nothing in the twilight of the heavily 
shaded spot. But presently, as his eyes grew ac- 
customed to the semi-darkness, he made out the 
form of Coach Clabby, sitting at the very edge of 
the tiny brook. 


262 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


The sight of the man filled Penny with a blazing 
fury. He smothered a sudden angry impulse to 
turn without speaking and resume his race. Per- 
haps it was not yet too late to hope he might be 
equal to the task of overtaking and passing his 
opponent. He gripped the rail with quivering 
fingers. 

“ What’s the matter? ” he called in a curiously 
uneven voice. 

“ Pve turned my ankle,” the coach shouted 
back. “ The front fork of my bicycle frame broke 
and threw me. The injury is slight, but I cannot 
climb out of here, nor walk to town. Will you 
please send me a carriage? ” 

“ Yes,” promised the boy, his mind in a tur- 
moil. “ Yes, Mr. Clabby.” 

For the first time, apparently, the coach seemed 
to'note the identity of the person on the bridge. 
“ Why, Penny! ” he exclaimed. “ I did not know 
it was you. I — I did not mean to stop you, of 
course. Go on with your race, and send out a 
carriage for me when you are done. Don’t stop 
— keep running, I tell you ! ” 

Wayne turned silently and sprinted away. After 
all, there was nothing he could do if he picked his 
way down to the coach; he could serve best, he 


THE CROSS-COUNTRY RACE 263 

decided quickly, by summoning the desired aid 
when he finished the race. 

It took him a minute or more to relax his 
muscles, which had stiffened slightly. As he 
reached the brow of the little hill on the other side 
of the bridge, the road stretched out before him 
in a long, straight line. Despite the delay, he had 
hoped to sight the other runner at this point, and 
the discovery that the track lay utterly deserted 
shocked and frightened him. He stumbled, caught 
himself just in time, and burst into a frenzied 
chaos of form, chopping short his stride, jerking 
his arms spasmodically, and sucking in dust 
through his open mouth. 

But presently his mind cleared again, and he 
forced from it the ugly thoughts that had been 
welling up unchecked. He must resist the temp- 
tation to spurt; he must fight with both brain and 
muscle to regain and hold that long, measured 
stride, never varying it to the end. Only by the 
ceaseless torture of steady progress could he hope 
to finish at all. 

His throat was dry and parched. His lips flecked 
“ cotton.” The cords and tendons of his legs cried 
for rest. He was no longer able to hit the ground 
upon the balls of his feet, and when his heels came 


264 THE FOURTH DOWN 

down jarringly it shook him to his very neck. 
Little pebbles caught the toes of his shoes, and 
sought to trip him; clinging serpents of grass en- 
twined his ankles, and cut and held; and, more 
and more often with every curve of the road, the 
uneven surface threw him first one way and then 
the other, with ominous threats of twist or sprain. 

He staggered blindly up the next incline. Far 
ahead — it seemed miles and miles to the fore — 
he could distinguish young Clabby, still running 
with apparent strength and confidence. But 
Penny did not give up. He must win ! As he ran, 
the refrain of the thought ding-donged in his brain, 
a word for every forward step: “I — must — 
win ! — Yes, — I — must — win ! ” A hundred 
times he repeated it in his mind; a thousand. It 
echoed in his ears like a funeral dirge. 

A mile from the finish, he raised his drooping 
head and looked fearfully to the front. He had 
gained, but it was such a pitifully tiny advantage 
that it promised little. He could never reach 
Clabby unless that runner weakened. Weakened! 
Ah, there was the chance. Was his opponent 
staggering, too, or was it merely a fantasy of hope? 

But a little later, as he stared hard at the figure 
ahead, he knew he had seen sanely. Clabby was 


THE CROSS-COUNTRY RACE 265 

faltering; fighting against the weariness of his 
foolish sprint, but steadily losing ground. Closer 
and closer drew the two. Wayne found himself 
wondering if he were really advancing, or if the 
world were topsy-turvy, spinning Clabby back 
to him. He laughed, but there was no mirth in the 
sound. 

Now he was gaining fast. Why, surely he could 
pass him before long. . . . Then a building loomed 
up at the side of the road, and another, and still 
another. Farther ahead was a curious buzzing, 
such as bees make in swarming. Suddenly, he 
understood. He was entering the little college 
city. The noise was cheering. There, six blocks 
away, was the lower campus. And Clabby still 
led! 

His eyes were half closed; he could barely see. 
When he lifted a protesting leg, it weighed as much 
as his whole body. Sometimes, too, the flat road 
lurched up toward his face, and he stepped ludi- 
crously high to avoid it. He had forgotten all 
about swinging his arms, and running on his toes, 
and breathing normally. He realized only his 
stubborn determination to win. Win! That was 
it! 

The last block was an inferno. Scores of howl- 


266 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


ing madmen ran by his side, and cheered and 
begged and threatened. Some of them were 
dressed in sober black; some wore stripes and 
checks and cardinal sweaters; one, curiously 
enough, was a tall figure with short, knee-length, 
flapping white pants. . . . Why, that was Clabby, 
and Clabby was at his very side. 

Somewhere in his sturdy frame, or in his stout 
heart, there was a single ounce of reserve power. 
As a singer husbands her highest note for some 
supreme moment, he had been miserly treasuring 
that ounce. Now he brought it forth. For just 
a space as long as a man’s body, it fed his dying 
strength. For inches, it carried him forward. But 
at the end of that space was the finishing line. 

Later — it seemed hours afterwards, but it must 
have been only seconds, for the crowd was still 
howling like maniacs — he opened his dirt en- 
crusted eyes. Somebody’s arm, thrown protect- 
ingly about his shoulders, was steadying him as 
he swayed uncertainly. 

“ Who — who won? ” he asked, forcing out the 
words through parched lips. 

“ You! ’^shouted Terwilliger’s voice, very ex- 
ultant and very proud. “ You beat him a long 
ways — oh ten inches, at the least! ” 



“Who — who won?” he asked, forcing out the words 
through parched lips. Page 266. 





\ 



. 1 










THE CROSS-COUNTRY RACE 267 

An hour later, as Wayne and Terwilliger sat 
talking in the former’s room, somebody called 
from beneath the window facing the street. Penny 
leaned out. 

“ It’s Coach Clabby in the carriage we sent for 
him,” he told Terwilliger. 

They walked silently down the stairs and out 
to the curb. It was not a time for speech. 

“ Penny,” greeted the coach, “ I want to say, 
first of all, that the result of this trial race is not to 
govern my selection of a runner for the inter-class 
event.” 

“ But you said,” began the boy, utterly be- 
wildered, “ that we were to abide — ” 

“ Yes, I know,” interrupted Clabby, “ but there 
are other things to be taken into consideration. 
And now I want to assure you once more that I 
had no idea it was you to whom I called from under 
that bridge. It was growing late in the afternoon, 
and that particular road is little traveled. I heard 
footsteps, and I called to whomever might be 
passing. Now that you understand, I am sure 
you will accept my apology.” 

“ Why, yes, sir,” said Penny dully. His whole 
air-castle was tumbling to the ground. “ Yes, sir, 
but — ” 


268 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


“ Of course,” went on the coach, “ I sent you 
on with your race just as soon as I discovered your 
identity. But you had lost too much time. You 
understand, don’t you, that I cannot in justice to 
you do anything other than refuse to consider the 
result a fair test. You couldn’t be expected to beat 
my brother after I had delayed you in the manner 
I did.” 

Penny Wayne leaned excitedly toward the man. 
“ Mr. Clabby,” he cried, “ you are the one who 
doesn’t understand. Why, I did beat him! I beat 
him by inches, sir! He — he ran a good race, but 
I won.” 

The coach looked wonderingly at the boy. 
Penny was nodding his head vigorously, as if to 
drive home the truth. Then the man turned to 
Terwilliger, who bobbed his affirmation. The 
coach’s eyes sparkled. 

“ I am glad you did,” he said simply. “ That 
means you must have run a wonderful race. You 
will push Terwilliger hard in the inter-class event.” 

“ He’ll beat me,” declared that youth, “ and 
he’ll win from the others, too. Why, Penny 
Penfield is — ” And his very optimism robbed 
him of words with which to laud his friend. 

“ I am glad, too,” continued the man, “ for an- 


THE CROSS-COUNTRY RACE 269 


other reason. After I had stopped you, I realized 
the interpretation that might be placed upon my 
action, and I worried over the fear that you would 
distrust my motive. It would have been a foolish 
suspicion, of course.” 

It was Terwilliger who answered him. “ Very 
foolish, sir,” he agreed gravely. “ The fellow who 
is suspicious of everybody and everything is pretty 
miserable. Penny Penfield isn’t that sort, I can 
assure you.” 

“ Neither is Terwilliger,” said Wayne, grinning 
up into his classmate’s face, “ — now! ” 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE MUD -LARK OF THE TEAM 

Dad Lubbock sat in the gymnasium office, 
watching idly the rain that beat down upon the 
lower campus. It was the day of the last football 
game of the regular season, and that afternoon 
Wellworth was to meet the fastest and most suc- 
cessful of its rivals, Union College. The morning 
had dawned cloudy and warm, with the air sticky 
and muggy. About mid-forenoon, a black cloud 
grew ominously in the east, and within an hour the 
college city was dripping wet from a heavy shower 
that left a path of mud in its wake. 

As the coach studied the sky with a critical eye, 
the door behind burst open, and there entered a 
dripping, mud-spattered figure. It was Wallie 
Moogers. His shoes squashed and oozed water 
at every step, and little trickles flowed down the 
valleys of his moon face. But his eyes were alight 
with a fire that made it clear he did not under- 
stand his sorry appearance. 


THE MUD -LARK OF THE TEAM 271 

“ Mr. Lubbock,” he began abruptly, “ it’s rain- 
ing*” 

The coach nodded assent. 

“ The playing field will be muddy,” continued 
Moogers. 

“ It often is when rained upon,” admitted Dad 
Lubbock. But the sarcasm missed fire entirely. 

“ You don’t understand what I mean,” pro- 
tested Wally shrilly. “.Lakers can’t run well in 
the mud.” 

The coach sat up very straight in his chair. A 
tiny line creased his forehead. Until this time, 
the only game played on a heavy field was the one 
with Clayton, which he had not witnessed, and 
by which Lakers could not be judged. 

“ How do you know? ” he demanded. “ Ever 
see him try it, other than the day when he was 
coming down with a fever? ” 

“ No-o,” confessed Moogers. “ But Penny 
Wayne says he won’t be as fast in the mud, even 
compared to the others, as on the dry. You see, 
sir, he isn’t built for it.” 

Dad Lubbock rose to his feet, and placed his 
hands on the fat boy’s shoulders. “ Wallie,” he 
said earnestly, “ are you sure you know what you 
are saying? ” 


272 THE FOURTH DOWN 

“ Yes, sir,” declared Moogers confidently. 
“ People, sir, are a lot like horses in that respect. 
Some horses are as fast as the wind on a dry road, 
but lack endurance. They’re like Lakers. Well, 
sir, try them in the deep mud, and they flounder 
about and are beaten by the slower, heavier-gaited 
animals.” 

“ Like you,” supplemented the coach dryly, 
suddenly perceiving the drift of the conversa- 
tion. 

“ Yes, sir, like me,” agreed Wallie Moogers, 
without flinching. “ Do you remember the first 
practice in which I held my own? It was in the 
mud. And the Clayton game was played on a 
muddy field. Lakers is a sprinter, Penny says; 
speedy, clean-limbed, fast-stepping. You can 
watch him, sir, and if he isn’t sturdy-legged enough 
for the mud, you might give me another chance. 
You know, Mr. Lubbock, I’ve been working out 
with the second and third elevens right along. I 
— I think I’m a kind of mud-lark.” 

Dad Lubbock threw back his head and laughed. 
It appealed to him as wonderfully funny. When 
he could speak again, he held out his hand to 
Moogers. 

“ I can’t make a definite promise,” he said 


THE MUD -LARK OF THE TEAM 273 


frankly, “ but I’ll remember your argument. If 
Lakers fails, and Binner weakens, I may put you 
in at full-back. Still, you proved long ago that 
you were pretty soft, and pretty slow, and — ” 

But he was talking to an empty room. Wallie 
Moogers had slipped out the door at the first hint 
of the arraignment. 

As they rode to Camp Randall that afternoon, 
Dad Lubbock asked Penny Wayne about the 
theory. A little to his surprise, he found the fresh- 
man championing it zealously, although the boy 
denied his responsibility for the visit of Moogers 
upon the coach. 

When Penny trotted out upon the field, close 
behind Dad Lubbock, it seemed to him all the 
artillery of the world boomed a deafening welcome. 
Upon the circus-like tiers of seats that slanted 
down to the parallelogram of the gridiron, vast 
crowds were upon their feet, cheering until the 
din merged into a mighty roar that echoed and re- 
echoed from the sounding walls of humanity. Ban- 
ners and pennants and ribbons rippled back and 
forth like cardinal and blue splotches upon the 
huge canvas of the white sky. At one end, the 
university band blared forth patriotic and local 
airs, to which the bleacher crowds were already 


274 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


fitting appropriate football words and roaring 
them forth with more regard for noise than music. 
Cheer leaders under the guidance of Terwilliger 
were performing the most surprising gymnastics 
with their megaphones and limbs. Altogether, 
Penny Wayne found it difficult to believe that he 
had not been thrust suddenly into some strange 
and unreal world of which he knew nothing. 

Once the squad was upon the field, Dad Lub- 
bock set his team at its task of signal practice, 
and then stooped to examine the condition of the 
field. Penny watched him curiously, with a little 
smile playing about his lips. The coach poked up 
the wet dirt with the toe of his shoe, and even 
reached down for a handful. After a second or 
two, however, he straightened up, threw back his 
shoulders, and expelled a full breath through his 
whistling lips. Next, he glanced quizzically at 
the “ mud-lark.” 

Penny, following the man’s gaze, decided that 
the holiday unreality of the whole intoxicated at- 
mosphere had affected Wallie Moogers even more 
than it had himself. The big fellow was pacing 
back and forth near the side-lines, with brilliant 
eyes and quivering nostrils. Already, it seemed, 
his imagination had carried him into the midst of 


THIi: MUD -LARK OF THE TEAM 275 

the game that was to come, and he was fighting 
by proxy each strategic move of the enemy, stop- 
ping its best-planned plays, and tearing through 
its line as if it were paper. He apparently did not 
see the crowd at all, nor know there were splashes 
of blue and white sky above and brown and yellow 
grass below. He was waiting, waiting — 

The game began. As Parker kicked off for Well- 
worth, Wayne dragged his big friend to the ground 
between Dad Lubbock and himself, where he 
squatted during the initial scrimmages. These 
first minutes of play afforded no dramatic mo- 
ments. Each team battered hard against the 
stone-wall line of the other for three or more dowps,' 
sometimes punting out of danger on the last, and 
sometimes surrendering the ball when the ten 
yards had not been gained. 

Then, so gradually that Penny did not detect it 
until Dad Lubbock groaned, the style of play 
shifted. For a minute or more, the boy watched 
keenly, striving to comprehend this new method 
of attack. But he saw only that Lakers was fail- 
ing to gain as consistently as he had in other 
games, and that he was bearing the brunt 
of every scrimmage. After he had studied the 
tactics without discovering the reason, he sidled 


276 THE FOURTH DOWN 

back of Moogers and around to the other side of 
the coach. 

“ I don’t understand, Dad,” he confessed, point- 
ing out upon the playing field. “ Why is Union 
concentrating its attention upon Lakers ? ” 

Dad Lubbock turned to him with weary eyes. 
“ Because the general on the other side has de- 
tected our vulnerable point,” he said. Then he 
rushed on with the explanation, as if to relieve his 
mind by asking the boy to share the knowledge. 
“ You see, Penny, with Parker in the line, Eiden- 
fessel and Winkle as halves, and Lakers as full- 
back, we have now the strongest combination I 
have been able to develop all season. The eleven 
is nicely balanced as to offensive and defensive 
play. It has speed which has not been acquired 
at the expense of weight. It has never been forced 
to the limit of its skill. But there is a weakness 
there, cunningly glossed over; and that weakness, 
surprising as it may seem to you, is centered in 
Lakers. About him the whole structure has been 
erected. He is the prop, the supporting girder. 
And Union knows it as well as I do.” 

As a matter of fact, the opponents of Wellworth 
had been drilled for days preceding the game with 
the sole idea of striking swiftly and deeply at the 


THE MUD -LARK OF THE TEAM 277 


tender spot. Their quarter-back was now making 
use of this plan of campaign, which was simply to 
send two players bowling straight at Lakers, whom 
he realized was the keystone of every formation 
in Dad Lubbock’s scheme of attack. No matter 
what the play might be, the full-back was to be 
swept out of it. As a result, the latter found it im- 
possible to break free from the first swirl after the 
ball was passed; and his tremendous speed on his 
feet was wholly offset. 

“ But they can’t box him forever,” Penny told 
the coach nervously. “ He’s altogether too fast to 
coop on every play. After a little, when he solves 
the counter attack, he’ll break loose. Why, he 
must! ” 

Over on the other side of Dad Lubbock, Wallie 
Moogers squirmed uneasily. “ They have poor 
Lakers worried,” he announced, speaking to no- 
body in particular. 

“ Wait! ” advised Wayne; “ he may solve the 
problem. If he can — ” 

He chopped short the sentence with a groan. 
Lakers was worried. He was slowing up, and 
losing his dash and snap. Worse, the team of 
which he was the pivot began to falter. Robbed 
of the balance-wheel which kept it whirring at 


278 THE FOURTH DOWN 

high speed, the football machine was running 

faultily. 

As the game wore on, it became more and more 
obvious to Penny that Lakers was weakening. It 
was his first time under a persistent fire like this 
since his illness, and he was beginning to retreat. 
Gradually, but none the less surely, Wellworth’s 
team itself was giving ground, sullenly and sav- 
agely. At times, the line halted the steady ad- 
vance until the ball changed hands. But these 
were only respites. Without the sprinting dashes 
of Lakers, it could not gain consistently. Each 
time it was only a question of seconds until Union 
was once more playing offensively, grinding and 
battering its way down the field toward the goal. 

But to the profound relief of both Penny and 
the coach, the first quarter was over before the 
visitors could cross the last white line. Perhaps the 
minute of rest would serve to put the bewildered 
full-back upon his feet once more. If it did not, of 
course, there was nothing to do but put somebody 
in his place. 

For the first seconds of the next quarter, Lakers 
rallied; but it was only a dash of dying courage 
and desperation. After that, he found himself 
boxed on every play again, and shouldered aside, 


THE MUD -LARK OF THE TEAM 279 

and halted before he could get moving. The vis- 
itors, quick to see their advantage, allowed him 
no time to recover. Down the field they charged, 
one yard, two, five, ten at a down, always over the 
left wing of the line, which Lakers was supposed 
to bolster. And in the end, as was inevitable, they 
forced their way across the goal-line, and scored. 

After the goal was kicked, Dad Lubbock called 
to Binner. The runner was useless now. As he 
beckoned, Wallie Moogers, at his side, rose quickly 
to his knees. 

“ My chance? ” he asked shrilly. 

The coach’s nerves were raw. He had for- 
gotten all else in the agony of watching the forced 
retreat of his eleven, and his body ached as much 
as if he himself had borne the brunt of every piti- 
less attack. 

“ Of course not! ” he snapped shortly. “ If 
Lakers isn’t fast enough to get going and clear of 
the interference, do you suppose a slow mover 
like you could?” 

On his other side, Penny Wayne opened his 
mouth, as if to offer advice; and then closed it 
again. Instead of speaking, he leaned forward 
to stare at Moogers. 

Wallie’s shoulders bent, and the big fellow drew 


280 THE FOURTH DOWN 

his cardinal blanket closer about him. He watched 
with contemplative eyes as Binner was substi- 
tuted for Lakers, and expressed sincere pleasure 
as the fresh full-back stopped the human battering- 
ram that was promptly propelled through the 
side of the line he backed on defense. Binner 
was fresh, and the other team was tiring. For this 
reason, the march down the field was temporarily 
halted, although it was distressingly clear to 
Penny that the substitute was playing above his 
natural ability on the false courage of despair and 
excitement, and could not last. 

But he served his purpose by delaying further 
scoring before the referee’s whistle ended the half. 
Then Dad Lubbock took his players in hand; and, 
while they were being rubbed and freshened for a 
renewal of the bitter struggle, he sought to inspire 
them. 

“ They have the jump on us, boys,” he told 
them calmly, “ but we will win yet. I am going to 
strengthen the left half of the line with a fresh 
player at tackle, and put Reynolds at full. Then 
we will play a kicking game. If you boys in the 
line will hold when the time comes, he can drop- 
kick at least three goals. Don’t give up. Don’t 
flinch. Don’t stop or hesitate for a single second. 


THE MUD -LARK OF THE TEAM 281 


And remember that the game is not lost until the 
final whistle. You — What’s that? ” 

Behind him, rasping his raw nerves, there was 
a sudden crash. It was Moogers — poor, clumsy 
Wallie Moogers — who had stepped into a pail 
of water, and tripped and fallen. Ordinarily, the 
others would have laughed in high glee, and gibed 
him mercilessly with ready repartee; but now 
they merely scowled. Moogers himself was so 
oblivious to every-day matters' that Penny Wayne, 
studying him, doubted if he noticed the accident 
enough to remember it afterward. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


CROSSING THE GOAL - LINE 

The second half began. On the kick-off, little 
Jarvis, the Wellworth quarter-back, who was as 
slippery as an eel, caught the ball, and dodged 
and squirmed his way up the field to Union’s 
forty-yard line. Then, before the visitors were 
fairly set, it was in play again, and Eidenfessel was 
around left end, and running in a free field. If 
it had been Lakers, with his ability to out-sprint 
any tackier, a touchdown might have resulted. 
Even the heavier and less speedy German boy 
gained a full fifteen yards before he was downed 
from behind. 

Reynolds dropped back to attempt a field-goal. 
The line braced with the strength of an army in the 
last ditch. There was a flash of the yellow ball 
hurtling from the center-rush to the full-back, a 
clean catch, a smart and resounding thump as his 
toe caught the pigskin just as its tip touched the 
ground; and it went tumbling crazily, end over 


CROSSING THE GOAL -LINE 283 

end, straight above the high bar between the goal- 
posts. The score was not yet tied, but three to 
seven was infinitely better than naught to seven. 

“ And if Reynolds has done it once,” Penny 
Wayne declared to the coach at his side, “ he can 
do it again. Why — ” 

The sentence trailed off into nothingness. As 
Reynolds had drop-kicked, two tacklers were upon 
him, almost blocking the ball. Now, as they arose, 
he lay twisting and moaning with a sprained ankle, 
the first real accident of the football season at 
Wellworth. 

Penny’s paean of gleeful optimism broke in the 
very midst of its cadence when he discovered the 
injured full-back on the ground. That meant the 
end. Two substitutes of the position were clearly 
incapable of further effort; and Lakers was still 
shaking and nervous from the bruising he had 
received. They were still four points behind, and 
there was no capable full-back to assume the 
burden, unless — 

Wallie Moogers saw the accident as quickly as 
the others. In an instant, with remarkable agility 
for one of his weight, he was upon his feet, facing 
the coach, with an insistence that forced the 
man backward. 


284 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


“ Give me my chance! ” he implored. “ I can 
do it, sir. Lakers is in no shape to go back into 
the game, and, anyhow, you can’t put him in until 
the beginning of another period.” 

Dad Lubbock shook a weary, discouraged head. 
What was the use of reciting again the weaknesses 
of this willing but impossible youngster? He 
stared hopelessly at the group of substitutes. 
They were eager enough, but not one of them 
would do. 

“ You must put me in, sir,” demanded Wallie 
Moogers, fairly insane with enthusiasm. “ Why, 
this morning, sir, you said I might have a chance 
if Lakers and Binner failed. I can plough through 
the mud, I know. Don’t you understand? Don’t 
you recall that time in practice I proved I could 
do it? I — I tell you, Mr. Lubbock, I am a mud- 
lark.” 

The coach looked at him with startled eyes. 
Beyond, Penny Wayne lifted a warning hand. 

“ Try him,” he advised laconically. 

“ It’s my kind of a field,” argued Moogers 
eagerly. “ Give me just five minutes out there. 
If I don’t make good, take me out. Why, sir, in 
this mud — ” 

Once more, Dad Lubbock peered into the play- 


CROSSING THE GOAL -LINE 285 

er’s face, as if to determine how serious he might 
be. Something he saw in the bright eyes, or in the 
tense mouth, or perhaps the broad, quivering 
shoulders, made him suddenly yield. 

“ Go in! ” he cried. “ Go in and save the game, 
you — you 4 mud-lark.’ ” And he looked at 
Penny Wayne, who was turning his face away, 
and laughed a little hysterically. 

Wallie Moogers walked out upon the white- 
ribbed parallelogram. Already, the teams were 
lining up. In the middle of the field, nine of the 
visitors crouched near the forty-five-yard line, 
ready to spring forward when the ball was kicked. 
One played back for the final tackle if the others 
should miss, and one was building a little tee on 
the forty-yard line for the kick. The Wellworth 
players scattered over their territory in the posi- 
tions Dad Lubbock had taught them in the 
weary months of practice. 

The ball sailed straight to Moogers. On the 
side-lines, Penny Wayne sucked in his breath in a 
frenzy of fear. But the big full-back was as cool 
as the veterans. He caught the pigskin cleanly, 
allowing it to fall against his breast and into his 
arms, and lowered his head, as a charging animal 
of the wild forests might. With a cry of pleasure, 


286 THE FOURTH DOWN 

that carried to those at the side of the field, he 
plunged forward into the protecting V behind the 
quickly formed interference. 

Penny Wayne clenched his fists until the nails 
cut into the palms. He knew what to expect better 
than did the coach, but the fulfilment of Moogers’ 
promise was a revelation. Slow? Why, Wallie 
was leaping forward as Lakers might have done, 
actually crowding the fleet-footed Parker and the 
shadowy Winkle ahead of him. One by one, the 
secondary interference dwindled into nothingness, 
victims of the determined Union players; but 
still the runner was free. Parker fell in warding 
off a tackier, and then Winkle. Moogers was 
striding forward alone now, with no defense before 
him. 

A tackier launched himself, and for an instant 
clung desperately. Moogers pushed him off with 
his open hand. Another dived through the air, 
forgetting in his haste the rule requiring one foot 
on the ground; and Wallie — big, slow, dull- 
witted Wallie — dodged suddenly with a master 
divination of the method of attack, and left the 
disgusted tackier sprawling upon the ground. 
Slow! Penny laughed wildly, and fought off a 
mad impulse to run out there and congratulate 


CROSSING THE GOAL -LINE 287 

the big fellow who had toiled throughout the 
season for this final opportunity. 

They downed him at last by sheer weight, but 
he had carried the ball a full forty yards. He 
surrendered it greedily to an official, and raced 
to his position, ready before the others. 

Quarter-back Jarvis, gazing doubtfully at his 
back-field, glimpsed the aspect of power in Moo- 
gers’ belligerent attitude, and signaled for him 
to take the ball through the right wing of the 
opposing line. Accustomed as he was to Lakers’ 
lightning starts, he was only half prepared for the 
rushing full-back now playing, and barely saved 
a fumble by a sudden flirt of his hands that drove 
the oval into Wallie’s stomach. Wallie grunted, 
but Penny knew no mere physical pain would dull 
his friend’s football sense that day. The big fellow 
shifted the ball quickly under his arm, and bored 
into the crouching Union line without the loss 
of an instant. The defense held for a second, and 
then he had catapulted through it, and ten yards 
beyond, before the three clinging tacklers could 
down him. 

Up in the stands, the crowds awakened into re- 
newed enthusiasm. Here and there, a man told 
his neighbor of the Clayton game, in which the 


288 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


present full-back had turned the tide of victory 
toward Wellworth. Through his megaphone, Ter- 
williger asked thunderingly, “ What’s the matter 
with Wallie Moogers?” and thousands chorused 
back, “He’s all right!” It must have been the 
only sound the full-back heard as he pushed off 
the tacklers who were sprawling over him, and 
arose to his feet. A cold shower bath could not 
have set his nerves in a greater tingle. 

They gave him the ball again, and he lowered his 
head and plunged forward. It seemed to Penny 
Wayne that every player on the Union team piled 
upon him at the end, and he watched apprehen- 
sively to see if he were hurt. As a matter of fact, 
when he wriggled free, there was a big bump on one 
of his temples. Even back where he sat, Penny 
could hear anxious little Jarvis ask “ Hurt, old 
boy? ” and Wallie’s contemptuous, “ Not a bit! ” 
Wayne fell to grinning foolishly, and digging Dad 
Lubbock gently in the ribs. 

Presently, Wellworth lost the ball on a fumble. 
It was now, on defense, that Moogers faced the 
crisis which had overwhelmed his predecessors. 
The very first play split the line and cannonaded 
full upon him, where it wavered hesitatingly, and 
then fell back for a loss. Again Union attempted 


CROSSING THE GOAL -LINE 289 

to force him aside, and again he braced his gigan- 
tic body, and tackled and held. After that, 
grudgingly admitting that he was invulnerable, 
the commanding quarter-back of the visitors sent 
his runners around the ends. Whether he knew 
it or not, this was an open admission of defeat; 
for Dad Lubbock was confident enough of his 
well-drilled ends and halves. Nor was he mis- 
taken. On the fourth down, Union fell back to 
punt. 

“ Watch him, Dad,” cautioned Penny Wayne. 
“ He may surprise you.” 

As the ball left the ground on the scrimmage-line, 
Wallie was after it like a hawk through a flock of 
newly-hatched chicks. There was a slurring line 
of dirty yellow, marking the passage of the ball, 
which was blotted out by a blur of soiled brown 
moleskins, representing the full-back’s flight 
through a gap in the human wall. The punter 
lifted his leg to kick, and dropped the ball upon his 
instep. Then Moogers was upon him, forbidding 
and irresistible; and, as the human vortex sucked 
them down into its midst, it was the Wellworth 
player who curled his plump body about the pre- 
cious bit of leather. 

The coach beat joyfully against his knee with 


290 THE FOURTH DOWN 

a closed hand. Wayne laughed from sheer pleas- 
ure. 

After that, it was only a triumphant march down 
the field. Line after line was gained and passed. 
The Union team was growing leg and arm weary, 
and a little appalled by this new player, mightier 
than any who had gone before him; and Moogers 
was fresh — and confident. Time after time he 
gained the necessary yards, coming out of the 
scrimmages to the grateful monotony of the 
officiaPs shout of, “ First down; ten yards to gain,” 
followed hard by the delirious cheers of the sport- 
mad crowd, ending always “ Give Wallie Moogers 
the ball! Give Wallie Moogers the ball! ” 

Ten yards from the goal-line, he looked over its 
crouching defenders before him, and whispered a 
word of advice to Jarvis. The center-rush and 
right guard were not inter-locked as they should 
have been, and Moogers’ quick eye had spied the 
weak link in the chain. In a flash, he was at it, 
had snapped it open, and was battling his way 
through the tacklers behind. They repulsed him 
with the strength inspired by impending disaster, 
but they were meeting a giant beckoned on by 
ambition and hardened by a long season of gruel- 
ling practice. There was no halting Wallie Moo- 


CROSSING THE GOAL -LINE 291 


gers with victory just beyond his pudgy finger- 
tips. With four of the Union players clinging to 
him, and entwining his body and limbs like huge 
snakes, he staggered across the last line for a touch- 
down. The score was now in Wellworth’s favor, 
and Parker’s kick for goal made it io — 7. 

“ But I don’t understand,” said Dad Lubbock 
during the minute between quarters. “ If there 
were really — ” 

Penny leaned over to him, and spoke rapidly. As 
he talked, the coach’s face cleared. When he was 
quite through, Dad Lubbock looked up at the sky, 
watching a queer little cloud racing pell-mell into 
a solid bank of its mates. It was a trim cloud, with 
no fleecy, irregular edges. 

“Oh!” he said presently. “If I hadn’t been 
blinded to his possibilities, I might have known. 
It took you, Penny Wayne, to foresee his playing 
in this game.” 

Moogers scored again in the final period; did 
it almost single-handed. As Wellworth was al- 
ready a comfortable three points in the lead, 
there was no need of the extra seven; but Wallie 
was crazed with the joy of realizing his dreams. 
Up in the stands, they were gloating over him, as 
if he had always been their hero. When it was 


292 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


all over, and before the crowds could swarm upon 
the field, Dad Lubbock ran forward and pumped 
the full-back’s hand until the arm ached. 

“ Umph! ” said Wallie Moogers, when he could 
make himself heard above the din, “ I guess they 
do love a fat man, after all.” 

The coach and Penny Wayne exchanged amused 
glances. 

“ Wallie,” said Dad Lubbock, “ what do you 
weigh now? ” 

The full-back looked up sheepishly. “ Well,” 
he admitted, “ I’ve trained down a lot. I sweated 
and worked off over thirty pounds altogether. 
Wayne kept me going at top speed every day in 
practice.” 

“ I understand now,” admitted the coach. 
“ Why, there isn’t an ounce of superfluous flesh 
on you. Your face hasn’t changed much, but your 
big body is all bone and muscle. And as for your 
needing mud to play your best game — pooh! ” 

“ Well,” objected Moogers, his face clouding, 
“ it took a muddy field to make me do it today, 
didn’t it?” 

It was Penny Wayne who answered. “ Wallie,” 
he said, “ the field isn’t muddy at all. The shower 
in the city was heavy, but out here at Camp Ran- 


CROSSING THE GOAL -LINE 293 

dall they got just the fringe of the storm. There 
never was any more dampness than a heavy dew 
would produce in summer. How on earth did you 
get the notion the field was muddy? ” 

Wallie Moogers stared with mild astonishment 
at the ground, which was undoubtedly dry. 
“ Why, I — I took it for granted at first, I guess; 
and then, when I jumped up to beg Dad Lubbock 
to put me into the game, I felt the water slush 
and squash in the bottom of my shoe.” 

“ In the dressing-room, between halves,” ex- 
plained his classmate, “ you accidentally stepped 
into a pail of water. That’s how your shoe be- 
came wet. Remember it? ” 

“ Why, no,” faltered Wallie. “ I must have 
been so excited I didn’t know anything that hap- 
pened.” A new expression of honest satisfaction 
was creeping over his face. “ Then the game 
I played this afternoon was — was my regular 
game, the kind I could play on a dry field any 
day? ” 

“Exactly!” said Dad Lubbock promptly. 
“ The kind you will be playing every Saturday 
afternoon next season. I have you and Penny 
Wayne to thank for the final solution of my 
back-field problem. Right now, I doubt if there 


294 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


is a better full-back in this part of the country 
than you, Wallie Moogers.” 

By this time, the crowds from the stands were 
swarming the playing field. Several persons were 
standing about, regarding Moogers with awe and 
wonder. 

“ It isn’t quite fair,” objected a new voice, 
which was Terwilliger’s, “ to limit the comparison. 
I don’t believe there is a better full-back any- 
where.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


WHILE EVERYBODY CHEERED 

“ My dear Wayne: — I have been instructed 
by the Athletic Association to invite you to attend 
the annual banquet given to the football team and 
substitutes. It will be held at Rankin’s Monday 
evening at seven-thirty. I hope you will be able 
to attend. 

“ Very truly yours, 

“Macklin R. Lubbock.” 

“ Dear Dad : — The invitation is a mighty kind 
one, but it is hard for me to say ‘ yes.’ The only 
game I ever played found me disobeying orders, 
and the more I have thought about it since, the 
worse I have felt. But if I have just a fair share 
of luck, I am going to be one of your star boarders 
at the banquet next year. 

“ Yours, 

“ Penfield Wayne.” 

“Dear Penny: — Don’t wait for next year. 
Come Monday night. The Athletic Association 
is asking you because I told it to. If you are not 
on hand when the soup is served, I will have you 


296 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


kidnaped and carried over by the best seven line- 
men in the West. 

“Dad.” 

“Mr. D. Lubbock, 

“Sir: — Just to save trouble, I shall come on 
my own two legs. 

“ Penny.” 

During the whole of Monday, the football play- 
ers were pelted with one all-important question. 
It was couched in many different forms, but the 
point was always the same. 

“ Look here, Wallie,” Terwilliger said to Moo- 
gers, as that well-rounded but muscled person 
perspired before the mirror, “ what’s the secret 
everybody is holding back? Now, honestly, Wal- 
lie, don’t you know a thing about it? ” 

“ No,” shouted the full-back, as for the seventh 
time his tie slipped into a loose pair of strings. 

“ Aw, you can’t make me believe that nobody 
knows except the secretary of the Athletic Asso- 
ciation and Dad Lubbock. I think — ” 

Moogers faced about angrily. “ Twig, let me 
alone. It is almost half-past seven now, and my 
tie isn’t right yet. Ask somebody else about it. 
I don’t know. Dad hasn’t taken me into his con- 
fidence.” 


WHILE EVERYBODY CHEERED 297 

He turned back to the mirror, and with a ges- 
ture none too gentle gathered up the ends of the 
offending tie. 

“ But, Wallie, just tell me what you think. Is 
there even a ghost of a chance for playing? ” 

Whatever retort Moogers intended making was 
quite unnecessary. From the direction of the 
door came a silencer that was more forcible and 
more complete than words. It was a sofa pillow 
that plumped full in Terwilliger’s face, making him 
shake his head and sniff indignantly. But when he 
had recovered, he did nothing more violent than 
hurl back the missile at the boy in the doorway. 

“ What is the news, Penny? ” he demanded. 
“ Wallie is trying to tell me that you football 
players don’t know any more about it than we 
others do.” 

Penny laughed. “ I’m sure I don’t know any 
more about it than you do, Twig. Better ask 
Dad Lubbock. Aren’t you nearly ready, Wallie? ” 

Moogers showed a grumpy face. “ I suppose 
I shall have to go the way I am, but my tie isn’t 
right. It will spoil the whole evening for me. 
Twig, where’s my coat? ” 

“ Remember,” warned Terwilliger, as he stood 
at the top of the stairs seeing them off, “ remember 


298 THE FOURTH DOWN 

that after every course, Wallie, you are supposed 
to hippity-hop around the table. Keeps your 
flesh down, you know. And when they bring on 
the turkey, you stretch out your hands and do 
4 Joy.’ You will remember to do 4 Joy,’ won’t 
you, Wallie? ” 

44 You shut up!” retorted Moogers sulkily. 
But as the two turned into State Street, he said to 
Penny, 44 Do you know, I like Terwilliger. He 
keeps me stirred up and alert, and that’s just what 
I need. If he would only stop calling attention to 
my ties! I can’t seem to learn how to make the 
things jump into a respectable knot.” 

The little room at Rankin’s Hotel which had 
been rented for the banquet was festooned and 
draped and banked in cardinal, with a bowl of 
red carnations in the middle of the table. But the 
feasters themselves, altogether ill at ease, were not 
a particularly merry party until Moogers, in his 
anxiety to pass a plate of olives, upset his water, 
and in a gallant attempt to catch it spilled his 
soup over Mr. Rankin’s carpet. The accident 
cleared the atmosphere instantly, and from that 
moment until the coffee was served, it would have 
required a megaphone to make any single speaker 
heard above the joyous clatter. 


WHILE EVERYBODY CHEERED 299 

After the manner of college students, the con- 
versations were largely exchanges of good-natured 
badinage. Arnie Borglum asked Lakers how 
many football teams he thought a man should 
play on in a single game, and Lakers solemnly re- 
torted that he could do better than that by getting 
out for the next dual meet, engaging two alleys 
in the hundred-yard dash, and then beating himself 
out for first place. Winkle argued against any 
rule that defined the number of players on a team, 
anyhow, and demanded to know by what right a 
Sherlock Holmes on the side-lines could count 
them. As the argument seemed to be growing a 
little too personal, Dad Lubbock ended it by 
declaring that anybody who fought off a fever to 
help out his college could afford to rest on his 
honors and smile at all jokes. 

“ If my tie would only stay down,” confided 
Moogers to Wayne, “ I could afford to laugh at a 
few myself.” 

Wee Willie interposed. “ Get a job with me this 
summer on the section of the B. L. & R., and I 
will teach you how to lay ties, Wallie.” 

The remark was greeted with loud groans, which 
were checked only when Captain Parker rapped on 
the table with his spoon. There was a moment 


300 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


during which the noise subsided as he rose from 
his chair. Then it turned to hearty and boister- 
ous applause, ending with, “Rah! rah! rah! 
Park-er!” three times over. 

“ Fellows,” began the captain, “ I really haven’t 
anything to say. I am gratified over the unbroken 
string of victories, and I am convinced we can 
defeat — Well, I think old Dad Lubbock has 
something he wants to say.” 

Again they cheered heartily. Twice the coach 
opened his mouth to speak, and twice the patter of 
hands and the shouting forced him to begin anew. 

“ Boys,” he said, “ I have two things to tell 
you. Both are interesting, but one of them I sus- 
pect you are especially eager to hear. That shall 
be first.” 

He paused, looking about the long table at the 
faces grown tense with anticipation and hope. 

“ Wellworth won the championship in this 
section of the country. Yates won the cham- 
pionship of the East. You all know that. Most 
of you, also, know that we have received an an- 
swer to our challenge for a game with them. They 
refuse to play us here.” 

Even Eidenfessel’s stolid face knotted into a 
frown. 


WHILE EVERYBODY CHEERED 301 

“ But,” continued Dad Lubbock, beaming like 
a young father playing Santa Claus, “ they will 
agree to meet us on a neutral gridiron, in Chicago. 
If you boys are willing, we will play them there a 
week from Saturday.” 

The cheering that had gone before was as noth- 
ing compared to this. The noise broke no win- 
dows, but it reached the ears of Henri, the im- 
ported French pastry cook, who ran hurriedly from 
the oven room to the kitchen, thinking it signaled 
an attack of bloodthirsty Indians until Mr. Ran- 
kin patiently explained. When the applause had 
begun to die down a little, the coach raised his 
hand for silence. 

“You boys understand,” he continued, “that 
this will not be a game in our regular schedule. 
It is a post-season contest. Please bear that fact 
in mind while I proceed.” 

Hitching forward in his chair, Penny allowed 
an elbow to rest on the table. The game with 
Yates had been the chief topic of talk for several 
days. In view of its possibility, the eleven had 
not broken training. But what was this second 
point of Dad’s? 

“ You boys all know, doubtless, that a certain 
amount of discipline is necessary in coaching 


302 THE FOURTH DOWN 

a football team. The man who undertakes to 
direct an eleven through a season must be obeyed 
implicitly. 

“ Early in the season, one of you boys trying 
for my team was guilty of a breach of discipline. 
I suspended him for the season. You all know 
how he has helped since that time. Although 
he was barred from making the eleven, he ” — 
here Dad Lubbock smiled boyishly himself — 
“ he worked and coaxed and planned with others 
until he just about made my eleven. . . . Thank 
you, but allow me to finish. . . . Well, the season 
is over now. So I am glad to say that when we 
play Yates, the first substitute quarter-back will 
be Penny Wayne.” 

In the wild enthusiasm that followed this an- 
nouncement, the little freshman began to ap- 
preciate that the football squad was glad, very 
glad. Never was a boy more joyously thumped 
on back and sides and head than Penny. With 
a mighty exhibition of strength, Eidenfessel and 
Wee Willie Winkle lifted him, struggling, to the 
table- top. From every side came cries of “ Speech! 
Speech!” And when he attempted to escape, 
Wallie Moogers caught him and held him fast 
while Lakers showered him with the great bunch 


WHILE EVERYBODY CHEERED 303 

of red carnations. He was very warm and em- 
barrassed, and he wanted to get off the table. 

While they were still laughing and applauding, 
Penny noticed that somebody on the opposite 
side was rising to his feet, and saying, “ Mr. 
Chairman! Mr. Chairman !” It was little Jar- 
vis, the Wellworth quarter-back. As soon as he 
could make himself heard, he spoke rapidly and 
jerkily, but very earnestly. 

“ Fellows, I don’t think any of you will say 
I am afraid to play in the big game. Fd like to. 
Yes, I’d like to. But I won’t. I am a fair quarter- 
back. Dad thinks I am better than any of the 
other candidates who had a chance to make the 
team. He said I must play out the season. Back 
in October I asked him if there wasn’t a better 
one. There was — then, but he couldn’t play. 
Well the season is over now, and I — I am man 
enough to step down and make room for him. 
Down in my heart, I know the position be- 
longs to Penny Wayne. He should play against 
Yates.’’ 

In the moment of absolute silence that followed, 
Jarvis reached out a hand to Penny, and gravely 
helped him climb from the table. Wayne 
gripped it hard, winking a little uncertainly, 


304 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


but not speaking. Yet his thanks and his ad- 
miration had been amply expressed. 

Then the cheering volleyed out, twice as loud 
as it had been before. They cheered for Jarvis, 
and for Penny, and for Dad Lubbock, and for 
Parker, and for everybody who sat about the 
table; and, just to make sure no one had been 
omitted, they began a second time with Jarvis 
and went through the whole list once more. 

When the banqueters left the hotel, Penny and 
Moogers walked down the street together. 

“ Penny,” said Moogers, his voice worn to 
a husky whisper, “ if you can just get into the 
post-season game — if you can just be playing 
quarter-back while I am playing full-back — I’ll 
be so tickled that I won’t ever care again, as long 
as I live, whether my ties are on right or not.” 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE POST-SEASON GAME 

He was playing again! He, Penfield Wayne, 
who had squatted day after day on the side-lines 
through other games, watching hungrily as his 
proxies ran and bucked and tackled, but rejoicing 
unselfishly at their successes, was himself crouch- 
ing for the kick-off. The ball lay tilted on end. 
On either side of it, strung along its forty-yard 
line, Wellworth’s team awaited the signal. A 
wintry gale blew in his face, stinging and lashing. 
An icy field spread bleakly before him. But these 
conditions could not still the glad song in his 
heart. He was playing again! 

Parker swept his eyes over the eleven, to assure 
himself for the last time that every man was ready. 
Penny dug his cleated shoes determinedly into 
the frozen surface. Above the howl of the wind, 
he caught the official, “ Are you ready, Yates? 
Are you ready, Wellworth? ” Then Parker swung 
his toe into the tilted football, and the post- 
season game was begun. 


306 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


It was a sturdy kick. The ball leaped onward 
and upward like a swallow on the wing. As it 
lifted from the little mound, Penny was away and 
running down the field with the others, exulting 
over his muscled legs that carried him forward as 
swiftly as they had in the dreams that were 
coming true. Behind him, swinging diagonally 
from the extreme left toward the center of the 
gridiron, pounded Kern, Eidenfessel, Borglum 
and Moogers. Over at the other side, and also 
moving gradually inward, were the other five, 
with Winkle leading. Down the very middle 
of the field charged Parker. 

“ A good kick,” Penny told himself; “ high 
and far. Half of us will be under it before it comes 
down.” 

He was already on the Yates forty-yard line, and 
the ball still soared somewhere up in the sky. That 
whoever caught it might be penned easily, with no 
opportunity to escape along the sides of the field, 
they were advancing in two converging columns, 
ready to close in when it fell. 

But still it soared. Ahead of him, the Yates 
players edged here and there uncertainly, with two 
or three rushing straight ahead, presumably to 
build up an interference. At the risk of slipping 


THE POST-SEASON GAME 307 

on the icy surface, Wayne looked up into the air 
for the ball, startled to discover that it was not 
where he had expected. His eyes found it pres- 
ently, however, and told him it was the plaything 
of the wind, which was buffeting it about as if 
it were a scrap of paper that — 

He shouted a warning. He tried desperately 
to stop, or to turn. But the mad impetus of his 
running made him slide helplessly over the frozen 
field. Before he could check himself, Moogers and 
Eidenfessel were upon him, both fighting to halt. 
When the three were able to face about, it was 
too late. 

The ball, caught by the gale, had sailed up 
straighter and straighter under the force of the 
retarding wind, after the fashion of a kite. When 
it began to descend, it had lost the energy of 
motion imparted by the kick, and responded only 
to gravity and the cyclonic air current. As a 
result, it moved backward toward Wellworth’s 
goal, rather than forward toward Yates’, gloating, 
if footballs ever gloat, over the queer trick of fate 
that had glazed a field with ice so capably that 
none of Dad Lubbock’s players dared look up 
from the treacherous footing. And now, when 
every one of them had far over-run the ball, it 


308 THE FOURTH DOWN 

came down near the middle of the field, a little 
more than ten yards beyond the point from which 
it had been kicked. In another instant, a Yates 
runner scooped it up leisurely, with no tacklers 
within striking distance, and carried it fifty 
yards for a touchdown. 

Again the boisterous wind lent assistance when 
the goal was kicked, buoying up the ball till it 
cleared the cross-bar by a wide margin, and rode 
through the air into the bleacher seats beyond. 
After a single minute of play, the score-board read: 
Yates, 7 ; Wellworth, o. 

“ It was a lucky accident,” Penny told himself 
stoutly. “ It can’t happen again. I must keep 
the fellows from getting downhearted.” 

He moved over to where Captain Parker was 
talking to Moogers and Eidenfessel. 

“ It was a lucky accident,” said Wallie serenely. 

“ And again it can’t happen,” declared Petey. 

Wayne filled his lungs with the fresh, invigor- 
ating air. They were trying to encourage him! 
Why, was ever such a team? They could not lose! 

“ Yes, I elected to kick off after the touchdown,” 
Parker told him nonchalantly. “ I am not worry- 
ing about what will happen this time.” 

And so they began all over, considering the 


THE POST-SEASON GAME 309 

the seven points as merely a handicap to overcome, 
and being no whit downcast nor discouraged. 
The kick was lower on the next attempt, and car- 
ried much farther. The Yates player signaled a 
fair catch, choosing to punt back with the wind. 
On Wellworth’s twenty-yard line, where Winkle 
was downed with the ball, the real struggle began. 

Penny called his first play. It was Eidenfessel 
through right tackle. The quarter knelt suddenly 
behind Moody, at center, and opened his hands 
for the pass. Without the loss of an instant, 
the football machine that Dad Lubbock had 
built up plunged forward, and there was a clear 
gain of five yards. 

It was not the mere advance, however, that 
set Penny smiling happily, but the knowledge 
that every player had done his part. Parker, 
the right tackle, and Lane, the right end, boxed 
the Yates tackle neatly. Borglum shouldered 
aside the guard. Eidenfessel, with the ball under 
his arm, crashed into the line, aiming his attack 
by the broad back of Parker, with Penny, Moogers 
and Winkle safeguarding the play and fairly lift- 
ing the German boy along. From the extreme 
outside, little Kern, the end, dashed around to 
thrust the Yates left half from the path, while 


310 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


the line held staunchly. The gain was not Eiden- 
fessel’s alone, but the combined effort of eleven 
Wellworth players striving as one. It was that 
perfection of team-work for which Dad Lubbock 
had toiled the season through, and which was 
now made possible with an entire freshman back- 
field to complete the harmonious mechanism. 

Half-way down the field, to the fifty-yard line, 
Wellworth hewed its course in this manner, with 
a varying attack into which each player fitted 
with the precision and frictionless nicety of human 
skill developed to its final degree. Here, quite 
without warning, there was a fumble that gave 
Yates the ball. 

“ Nobody’s fault,” said Parker promptly. 
“ Simply the fortunes of the game.” 

“ Nobody’s fault,” echoed Wee Willie Winkle 
solemnly. 

“ Such things happen in the best of teams,” 
chuckled Moogers. “ Anyhow, I have been 
wanting to warm up on defense.” 

There it was again. No one of them had fum- 
bled; it was simply an unavoidable accident, 
for which they were jointly responsible. Penny 
could have cried aloud his thanksgiving for the 
boon of playing with such fellows. 


THE POST-SEASON GAME 311 

Because of his alert mind and quick eyes, he 
played close behind the line on defense, with 
Winkle, a lone sentinel in the distance, guarding 
the goal. Penny had been drilled, not only on 
the practice field in actual scrimmages, but on 
the side-lines as a student of the game. Unless 
you are playing, you cannot coach in football; 
this rule of. itself might rightly be interpreted 
to mean that you see and learn more as an on- 
looker than as a participant. They season re- 
cruits for the big baseball teams that way, some- 
times keeping them on the bench day after day 
for a year or more before asking them to play 
in a scheduled contest. And so it was with 
Penny and football. 

Yates, like Wellworth, began its offense with 
formations that developed and flitted and dissolved 
as smoothly as cloud-shadows. From his position, 
Penny watched admiringly as its runners wove 
in and out, striking suddenly, cleanly, unex- 
pectedly. Until they were attuned to the task, 
the Yates eleven depended upon the fundamental 
close attacks; but as Wellworth began to solve 
these plays, and to shatter and stop them, their 
scope was gradually extended until the more 
brilliant open runs came into their own. But 


312 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


with a lead of seven points, as Penny told him- 
self, the team could well afford to risk forward 
passes, delayed and double passes, fake kicks and 
even — 

As if his very thought had carried to the stra- 
tegic general of the opponents, its quarter suddenly 
rattled off a four-number signal, passed the ball 
to an end who circled behind him, and then 
stepped back and out of the interference. The 
deliberate flaw in the mechanism of running off 
the play warned Penny. It was to be a trick of 
some kind. As he leaped forward involuntarily, 
with a cry of alarm, he recognized the odd forma- 
tion. Yates was attempting a trick play that 
was almost a twin of the one he had invented him- 
self at the beginning of the season! 

Curiously enough, his first clear thought was of 
how crude and defective it was, and of how many 
chances there were of its failing. He realized, 
not its one possible attribute of strength, but its 
many points of weakness. Why, with intelligent 
defense, any wide-awake player could thwart its 
success. Small wonder that Dad Lubbock had 
forbidden Wellworth to retain the trick! 

He moved rapidly to the right, and closed in 
behind Borglum and Parker, both surging mightily 


THE POST-SEASON GAME 313 

in a desire to break the line that opposed and held 
them back. Squeezing his small body between 
them, he wedged himself in the tiny opening. 

As if appreciating immediately his effort, the 
two players cooperated. Parker shouldered the 
Yates tackle outward, to the right; Borglum 
pushed his guard to the left. This left a gap of 
a foot or more, through which Penny promptly 
slipped. 

After that, it was comparatively simple. The 
prime objection to the trick was that its execution 
permitted of no secondary offense of safeguarding; 
to further the belief that the play was to go around 
the opposite end, it was necessary for the full- 
back and the halves to move in that direction. 
As the Yates end turned for the long throw to 
his quarter, Penny suddenly straightened up. 
The ball swished toward him, three feet above his 
head. With a leap, he reached high his eager 
hands, and caught it with palms and fingers, as 
one does a baseball. 

When he faced toward the goal, a blast of the 
gale staggered him. His feet slipped on the icy 
ground. Between the two, he lost a precious in- 
stant in starting his run. But once he was moving 
rhythmically, he tore into the teeth of the wind 


314 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


and over the slippery field without faltering. Be- 
hind him, he heard pounding footsteps, growing 
fainter and fainter as he sped away; from the 
stands boomed the Wellworth yell, a torn and 
tattered cheer as it battled with the tempest; 
once, in a lull, he caught the bass roar of Moogers’ 
triumphant encouragement. 

He smiled, griping harder at the ball beneath 
his arm. It was much more than a selfish satis- 
faction that overflowed his heart; it was proof, 
conclusive proof, that the trick play was one upon 
which a team could not rely. Dad Lubbock 
was right, just as he had always been! 

When he touched the ball to the ground, he 
was yards ahead of the nearest tackier, with ample 
time to select the point at which to down it. He 
guarded it jealously until the official carried it 
out upon the field for the try-at-goal, and watched 
breathlessly as Parker kicked — and missed ! 
Once more that day, the wind aided Yates by 
eddying the ball to the left of the goal-posts. The 
score was: Yates, 7; Wellworth, 6. 

Parker, as was to be expected, was almost heart- 
broken over his failure to add the tying point. 
But again the team smiled in the face of its dis- 
appointment. 


THE POST-SEASON GAME 315 

“ A good try if it did miss,” encouraged Winkle. 
“Next time!” 

“ Too much wind for anybody to expect to 
kick a goal,” declared Penny. “ Wait till we 
change goals, though!” 

“ An ill wind,” chuckled Moogers; “ yes, a 
very decidedly ill, out-of-its-head wind. Now for 
another touchdown ! ” 

But they failed to make it. During the few 
remaining minutes of that quarter, indeed, they 
did not once come within striking distance of 
the goal. When the next period began, with 
the wind at their backs, Penny called for a kick- 
ing game, signalling Parker to punt at every op- 
portunity, and thus offsetting, with one swing 
of the Wellworth captain’s leg, the dearly-won 
yards that Yates had gained in a dozen bitter 
scrimmages. At the end of the half, the ball was 
near the middle of the field. 

“ There is little I can say,” Dad Lubbock told 
them in the rub-down room under the grand- 
stand. “ You are playing a splendid game, just 
as I knew you would. Thanks to your kicking 
tactics, you are now the fresher team of the two. 
During this coming third period, I want you to 
play on defense and save yourselves as much as 


316 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


possible. Then, when the last quarter begins, 
you must call upon every reserve ounce of energy 
and muscle and Wellworth loyalty, and you must 
sweep Yates down the field before you. You can 
do it, boys! ” 

They all nodded solemnly, without speaking, 
and trotted back upon the field. And for the 
next fifteen minutes, because they played a 
steadier and therefore a less daring and brilliant 
game than they had at the outset, Yates fancied 
its opponents were weakening and breaking under 
the cruel strain, and was itself spurred to unnatural 
effort in an attempt to cross the goal-line once 
more. But when the whistle blew, and the teams 
changed ends for the final quarter, the score was 
still 7 — 6. 

Then Wellworth loosed its full fury and power 
of attack, and under the skilled guidance of 
Quarter-back Wayne played as it never had before. 
In its panic over this sudden recuperation, Yates 
rushed substitutes out to take the places of its 
tiring linemen, and braced and tautened and held 
with the grim desperation of impending defeat. 
But the odds were in Wellworth’s favor now. 
Its team was the stronger. Its machine moved on 
eleven cogs of equal potency while Yates’ ground 


THE POST - SEASON GAME 317 

and slipped upon its weak members. Even the 
gale, sweeping Dad Lubbock’s boys before it, 
jeered with whistling howls the players it had 
deserted. 

But the march down the field was not unbroken. 
Three times in the first ten minutes, Wellworth 
failed to make its yards, and the ball changed 
hands. Yates punted always on its first down. 
Its low, bounding kicks skidded and slipped over 
the icy field, often eluding Winkle and the others 
who raced back to his aid, until the gain was 
most substantial. But the Wellworth players 
never faltered. Where their runner was downed 
by a tackier, they lined up to regain the lost 
ground. 

“ That only makes it a little more difficult,” 
Penny would stimulate his back-field. “ Now, 
into them again, fellows!” 

Finally, as was inevitable, they cleaved their 
way to the very shadows of the goal-posts. Here 
Yates upheld the traditions of many years, and 
presented a stone-wall defense. Winkle crashed 
upon it, and was flung back for a loss. Eidenfessel 
charged furiously without gain. Penny shrilled 
another quick signal, which hurled Moogers full 
upon the swaying, heaving line like some huge pro- 


318 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


jectile. But still Yates battled him back, with its 
players spent and dazed and sick. 

A great admiration for such bull-dog courage 
filled Penny’s heart. Victory from such oppo- 
nents was worth all it cost, and more. To prove 
Wellworth a little better, a little stronger, a little 
more unified, was to single out an eleven that 
could not know defeat. For he, and every player 
Dad Lubbock had woven into his master harmony, 
was as confident of winning as though the score- 
board already blazoned the news to the waiting 
thousands in the stands. 

On the fourth down, Parker dropped back, 
snatched the ball from Penny’s eager hands, and 
plunged forward. With him plunged Wayne, 
Eidenfessel, Winkle and Moogers. Yates’ line 
split asunder before the steadfast, volleying, con- 
certed attack, but behind it somewhere a tackier 
reached the runner and downed him almost on 
the very goal-line. 

But the ball was not over. Six precious inches 
from the line it lay. By virtue of Wellworth’s 
failure to gain the necessary ten yards, it now be- 
longed to Yates. 

“ Next time, fellows!” cried Penny, as the 
team lined up on defense. “ Next — ” 


THE POST-SEASON GAME 319 

“ Two minutes to play,” the referee was saying, 
in answer to a question from the other team. 

Two minutes! Why, it couldn’t be possible. 
There must be some hideous mistake. The 
quarter-back had forgotten all about the time. 
Only two minutes more! His face blanched. 
If Yates kicked, as it certainly would, his team 
would have to plod its way back for thirty or 
forty yards to reach the goal again — and they 
could not do it in two minutes! 

There was just one chance. He shut his lips 
grimly, and called Winkle to play close behind 
the line. Unless they could break up the play, it 
mattered little what happened after the kick. 

“ Between right tackle and guard,” he whispered 
to a trio composed of Moogers, Eidenfessel and 
Winkle, massing them carelessly behind the center 
to divert suspicion. “ Yates’ left wing is weaken- 
ing, and Parker and Borglum will rip a hole for 
you. Low, fellows, and hard! We must do — 
Now! ” 

The ball had been lifted suddenly from the 
ground and thrown well behind the goal-line for 
the punt. But at Penny’s signal, the Wellworth 
backs had charged, tearing their way through the 
opposing line with crazed, irresistible force. For 


320 THE FOURTH DOWN 

a long moment, the boy was swept and swirled 
in a chaos of mad confusion. He was buffeted 
this way and that. Players fell on every side 
like soldiers shot in battle. But instinctively 
he realized that he was still being carried forward, 
and that his ears had caught no sound of thudding 
kick. In the end, he plunged headlong into what 
seemed a pit of twisting mortals. 

When he had struggled to his feet, tense, white- 
faced, afraid of what he might discover, he saw 
a Yates player lying almost beneath him, with the 
ball in his arms. 

There was no need of the official decision. 
He knew! The punter had been downed before 
he could kick; downed, not by any one player, 
but by the combined effort of the Wellworth 
team. It was a safety, scoring two points, and 
it made the total: Wellworth, 8 ; Yates, 7 . 

A few seconds still remained to play. There 
was the formality of another kick-off, a single 
scrimmage, and a final lining-up, before the referee 
piped a long blast and tossed his cap high into 
the air, to signal that the game was over. 

After they had flung their arms about each 
other’s necks and cheered for the losers with 
honest zeal, and listened to the Yates players 


THE POST-SEASON GAME 321 

returning the compliment manfully, Penny turned 
to his team-mates. 

“ Fellows/’ he cried, “ we couldn’t have won 
in a better way. I didn’t win the game, and 
Petey didn’t, and Wallie didn’t, and Arnie didn’t, 
and — Well, no single one of us was responsible. 
It was the team that won, the whole eleven playing 
as a unit. We won because each of us forgot 
self in his loyalty to the other ten. We couldn’t 
have wished for a better way, could we, fellows? ” 

By this time, the undergraduates who had 
taken the trip to Chicago were sweeping down from 
their seats and pouring out upon the field. As 
Penfield Wayne smiled at Terwilliger, leading 
them all, he faced toward Winkle. 

“ Wee Willie,” he declared earnestly, “ I’ve 
learned my last lesson about loyalty today. It 
has found for me the best friends, the best class/the 
best coach, the best team and the best college 
in all the wide world. . . . Let’s give the good 
old Wellworth yell once more!” 


THE END. 






































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The Henley Schoolboys Series 


AN AMERICAN BOY 
AT HENLEY 


By FRANK E. CHANNON 
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Young Captains of Industry Series 


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. . . Mr. Masefield has written here a book that will live ; it is 
not inferior to any serious novel of the year in genuine literary 
interest. — Chicago Evening Post. 


LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers 
34 Beacon Street, Boston 





























































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